


Spankings, Strappings and Paddlings--Oh My! (collected works)

by SonicoSenpai



Series: Just the Smut Please [1]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types, Lamento -BEYOND THE VOID-, Togainu no Chi
Genre: Birching, Caning, Cat Ears, Coming from Spanking, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Hairbrush Spanking, High School, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Paddling, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking, Strapping, Tails, Unrealistic Sex, Violence, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-07-23 23:19:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 28
Words: 121,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16168838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai
Summary: This is a submission for a Kinktober 2018 challenge which I plan to be ongoing. I figure it's something I personally might enjoy reading, so I figured why not post it?It's a collection of spanking stories from the stuff I've already written, possibly modified slightly. The characters and stories you may have already seen, but in case you don't want to comb through mindless other fluff and smut, I've put all the spanking stories in one place.I write mostly stuff for Nitro+Chiral, so please note--I am NOT using archive warnings for this work. It is not for the faint of heart. It is mostly non-consensual, though occasionally I may throw in a consensual or dubious consent piece.Please be warned.Also--these characters are cats boys--they have ears and tails, covered in fur, and yeah, they growl, hiss, groom, and bite sometimes. If you haven't played the visual novel, Lamento - Beyond the Void, do it. It's awesome! But you might enjoy this even if you haven't read the novel.Good Lord, have I really written this much about spanking? Jesus Christ.





	1. Siren of the Sea - Rai x Konoe

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Siren of the Sea (Part II)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14262210) by [SonicoSenpai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai). 
  * Inspired by [Broken Spirit - Part 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13896114) by [SonicoSenpai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai). 
  * Inspired by [Fluffy School Days 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15986726) by [SonicoSenpai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai). 
  * Inspired by [School Days in Sisa Part 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14881895) by [SonicoSenpai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai). 
  * Inspired by [Cinderella-Konekochan - Part I](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15331677) by [SonicoSenpai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai). 
  * Inspired by [Behind the Castle Walls - Part 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708144) by [SonicoSenpai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai). 
  * Inspired by [The Heat Behind His Eyes - Part 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13895250) by [SonicoSenpai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This first one-shot is from Siren of the Sea II. Rai is the pirate of a ship, and Konoe a slave and siren. You can read the entire series in my profile if you like, and I have a couple of spanking scenes from this series. This is the one of the least consensual between this pairing and written from Captain Rai's POV.
> 
> Brief background:  
> In this AU, Konoe finds himself abducted by a pirate slaving ship, captained by the terrifying Rai. His ability to sing is inadvertently discovered when trying to help a sick young fellow kitten, who hasn’t dealt with the capture well. His comforting Siren’s melody was heard throughout the ship and catches the captain’s eye. Will he be able to hold his own, against this fearsome seafaring devil?

I can feel the smaller cat shiver beneath my fingers as I lead him to the deck. Perhaps it’s the anticipation of being outside and in the fresh air after being indoors for nearly a week, but I expect it’s something else _entirely_. Against my better judgment, I ponder the reason as I lead him through the hull of the ship.

He started acting strangely the moment I brought up the idea of rewards and punishments. I have to confess, I’ve fantasized dragging his lithe body over my knee and giving him a sound spanking more times than I care to admit—even when I ought to be concentrating on work and I’m not even in the same room with him. He has the _perfect_  ass for such an activity. I just need to find the right excuse.

In fact, I considered doing just _that_ if he attacked me today, and I was actually disappointed that he was able to control himself. I’ll have to find another way to bring discipline into this odd relationship of ours. So far, I can say I’m _delighted_ with his enthusiastic response.

Even now, as I’m guiding him through the halls, I feel him quivering. I _know_ it isn’t fear. I’ve seen him shake with fear, and I’ve seen him quiver with sexual anticipation enough times to be able to tell the difference. I’m thrilled to see that this is _definitely_ the latter. I’m surprised, however, that he’s being this open about it.

I mean, yes, he blushed—of course, he would. The poor little thing can’t do _anything_ without showing embarrassment on his face and in those cute, oversized ears of his. I don’t mind that at all. It’s a wonderful way for me to gauge his feelings toward our activities—if I’m being too rough or too gentle, for example. It’s easy for me to tell whether his interest is real or feigned, whether it’s an activity I should pursue or whether I should try something else.

I shouldn’t be terribly surprised, because he seems interested in being restrained. He seems to actually enjoy it—as long as I don’t _leave_ him alone while he is restrained, I suppose. He didn’t care for that _at all_. I can’t forget the pained, hurt look on his face when he discovered I kept him chained to the bed when other cats were scheduled to enter my quarters.

My heart aches when I remember that expression. I probably should have apologized. I will do so later. Just because I’m captain of the ship doesn’t mean I never make mistakes. I need to make sure he understands the reasons behind my actions, and I need to apologize for hurting his feelings, even if it's necessary to do it again in the future.

He doesn’t understand the power he holds over others. I don’t believe he has any concept of how his scent affects others. I can even detect his sweet, enticing scent in the hallways, and cats less scrupulous than I would have no qualms about simply attacking him. I’m trying to teach him this slowly, starting with this trip outside today.

His scent right now is nearly overpowering—at least to me—but I figure, we will be outdoors. And there aren’t many of my crew working this time of night, so if anyone _is_ tempted, it won’t be a problem. I alerted Bardo in advance, so he should be available to help if needed.

There he is, in fact. This time, he’s left little Ciel in his chambers to rest. The last time I saw Ciel, he seemed to be having trouble walking, and Bardo seemed to have quite a bounce in his step. But that may just have been my imagination. An odd age difference, but who am I to judge? Compatibility is compatibility. Plus Ciel looks incredibly taken with the old man. I keep my thoughts to myself, greeting him with a nod.

He opens the door, and I lead my kitten outdoors. The moon of shadow is full, casting a pale light on deck, illuminating his blonde hair and face, making him look even softer and sweeter than usual. Gods, I want to kiss him, but that wouldn't really fit with the goals I have in mind tonight. First, get some fresh air in his lungs. Kissing him that would hinder that, I suppose. Second, expose him to some other cats. Third, make sure he will do as he’s told, even if it isn’t his first choice. Fourth, punish his behavior publicly if and when he doesn’t.

I see him close his eyes against the wind, and I realize that it’s a little chilly on deck for a cat dressed only in a silk yukata. I should have offered him a jacket or cape as well, and it slipped my mind. But he takes a deep breath, and a gorgeous smile lights up his face. His large white ears, tipped with brown, are perked up happily. He looks relieved.

“Feel good?” I ask.

He looks up at me—I will never get tired of those golden eyes—his smile widening. “I’ve missed the fresh air so much.”

The wind has picked up his scent and his voice, and so his presence has been noted on deck. Several sailors salute me and greet him politely, eyeing him with more than curious glances. I see their noses twitching, ears tilting his way, tails fluffing out, waiting for him to say more. Several sailors move downwind to bask in his scent. It irritates me, but I understand why they do it.

The first mate picks up on this, too, and he addresses them. “Are you at your posts?” He sounds gruff. The small cat looks in Bardo’s direction, and I want to distract him, so I pull him to the port side of the ship where we should be able to see the island.

“Look—out there—the lights,” I point, positioning my body behind him, shielding him from the wind. I feel the ocean spray lightly against my face. It feels wonderful.

“I see them, I see them!” He sounds excited. “It’s huge! Gods, is that Midorijima? Wow—amazing! Look at those lights—it’s so beautiful!” Listening to his voice, filled with joy, he’s hard to resist. I hope he doesn’t think to make any requests at this moment because I won't be able to deny him anything. I can’t help running my hands along the sides of his body as he’s excitedly looking out at the coast. How am I supposed to teach him obedience when I share his silly excitement?

“I have something to help you see a little more if you’d like to use it.”

His face brightens immediately, ears and tail twitching, he looks at me eagerly, expectantly. “May I?”

“Come,” I mumble into one of his soft ears. I pull him to the helm, where the current pilot offers me a salute, eyeing Konoe uncomfortably. I hand Konoe the spyglass and say, “Use this. It will magnify the view.”

Stunned sighs—purring sounds that sound _more_ than surprised, _more_ than delighted, in fact, drawing _every ear_ on deck—fall from my little Siren’s sweet mouth—music to my ears, making shivers course up my spine, and of course, have the same effect on everyone else in the vicinity. He's drawing every cat's eye and attention with those noises!

Noticing that his pleasure in experiencing the view attracts more attention than I’d prefer, I whisper in his ear, “Perhaps today, and _only_ today, since we are not alone, you might tone down your voice. You appear to be distracting my crew.”

“Eh— _what_?” Konoe looks up, embarrassed, a fresh pink coloring his ears. He sees the eyes watching him, the mouths literally salivating over him, noses detected his scent. He drops his gaze to the ground and says, “I’m sorry, I only meant—“

“No apologizing, little one,” I say, lifting his chin and kissing his lips, which pulls another one of those delightful sounds from him. “Just try to _control those utterances_.”

He smiles. “I will.” He turns back to the scenery. I lean over the railing, just observing him. His wonder fascinates me. He’s never traveled outside of Sisa before, so of course, he’d be overwhelmed. However, he can’t seem to get his voice under control, I notice—and he continues sighing with pleasure—and my crew has also noticed. I wonder—will _this_ be the issue I use to exercise my authority over him?

“Little one,” I whisper directly into his ear, making him jump since he is so absorbed with the spyglass. “Your sighing, gasping, and moaning over the sights is still quite distracting. Are you disobeying me and distracting my crew on purpose? Turn around, look at the disturbance you’re causing. See for yourself.”

I know he _hates_ to be embarrassed, especially in front of me, and it’s bordering on cruel to point it out so directly, but I can see _all_ the cats on deck, including Bardo, _leering_ at him, _salivating_ in his general direction. The small cat shyly glances over his shoulder to take a quick peek, and then instantly turns back to face the sea.

The current lookout is observing our interaction with more interest than is healthy and figures now is the perfect time to butt in, the nosey son of a bitch. He calls down from his assigned position in the crow’s nest, “Would you like an even better view from up here, Siren?”

Konoe jumps at the chance, moving to join him (and probably escape me) but I put a hand on his shoulder. I whisper in his ear, “I’d _rather_ you stay by my side.”

“But—“ His sweet honey-colored eyes look up at me, filled with longing and pleading. “Wouldn’t I be able to see so much better from above? I won’t be gone long! Plus the others won’t be able to hear me up there.” He tries moving away from me again, going his own way.

“ _Konoe_.” I know the lookout’s intentions quite well, however, and he is one of the cats I’ve caught standing outside my quarters, several times, enjoying my Siren’s scent. I know he wants to get Konoe alone. The thought of another cat even _touching_ my Siren brings my anger to boiling.

I clamp my hand down more firmly on his small shoulder and wrap the other around his waist. He whips his head around toward me, tail fluffing out fully.

“Don’t you remember the conversation we had _just_ before we came upstairs? The _criteria_ I had about you being permitted above deck?” My voice increases in volume, and I meet his gaze directly.

Konoe’s ears deepen in color—I can see his blush even under the pale moonlight—and I struggle to keep my face straight. Gods, he’s _adorable_.

“Yes, sir. I do.” His face falls slightly, and his anxiety increases.

His ears are burning up, and I can’t help myself. I reach out my fingers. They are hot to the touch. “And still, you try to escape me, _disobey_ me, and go your own way?”

A surprised gasp drops from his lips—but those sounds, regardless of what he intends, don’t just sound surprised. They sound increasingly _sensual_. I wave my hand around, indicating the crew, and every eye is glued on him.

“Regardless, _this_ is what happens,” I say, quite matter of factly. “And what’s _worse_ ,” I pull him close, pinning his body between the railing and my legs, “I’m afraid you have affected _me_ as well, regardless of your intentions. What do you plan to _do_ about it?”

He jerks his head up rather desperately—I see a tiny bit of fear in his eyes, which sends another electrical jolt directly into my groin. _Why is his fear affecting me like this?_  His sweet voice floats into my ears.

“I’ll take full responsibility for my actions.” The anxiety in his voice fills me with a powerful feeling—and it’s _really_ turning me on.

“Oh, yes, I am _sure_ you will,” I say, my volume increasing. “I have an idea of what you can do for me _later_. But what about my crew? What will you do for _them_?”

Konoe freezes. He gets a rebellious look on his face and spits out, “Well, if they get turned on by something as _ridiculous_ as me looking through a spyglass, that’s their _own_ stupid problem!”

I squeeze Konoe’s ass quite firmly and quite suddenly—hard enough to make him squeal.

“Ah! What are you d—?” he squeaks in protest.

“Hush,” I hiss loudly, pulling myself up to my full height. “Where is this insolence coming from? When I asked you to keep your voice down, you _deliberately_ disobeyed me. And now, you’re showing nothing but _more_ insolence, despite the suffering you put my crew through?”

“Suffering? What are you talking about?” I hear more desperation and anxiety in his voice, and that’s bringing me closer to the edge.

“Your tone—get your _tone_ under control,” I snap, now in my full-volume captain’s voice. I’m still only playing with him, but I _am_ trying to scare him a little—I _want_ to frighten him, I want to see his reaction. _I can’t help it._ I want to see him _afraid_. I want to _humiliate_ this small cat in front of these crew members here and now, just so I can cover him with kisses and forgiveness later in my quarters. Also, I want to make sure he will learn to _obey_ me, so I can trust him once we’re on land.

Apparently, this small cat hasn’t heard me in full captain mode before, because he is now _cowering_  before me. I feel a pang of guilt when I see his stance—tail fully fluffed out in fear, ears tilted back and flat against his head, pupils fully dilated. His body is low to the ground, and he tries to escape my grip, but I have no plans to release him.

I glance at Bardo, just in time to see him lick his lips. He knows _exactly_ what I’m doing. This is that power play he told me about, and I’m giving it a try in a low-risk situation. This will set me up as a figure of _authority_ over Konoe, in a position of power. Even if Konoe has supernatural powers as a Siren that can control me, he will hesitate to use them if he sees me as a person of absolute authority.

“Before allowing you to set foot on deck, you agreed that you would _obey_ me, even if the situation seemed awkward, difficult, strange, or not to your liking, did you not?” My voice booms across the deck. My crew doesn’t move an inch, watching our exchange.

My little Siren is frozen in place, unsure of how to respond. He doesn’t make a sound.

“ _Did you not_ , little one? I am waiting for your answer.” My voice is loud, and I have his attention as well as the attention of everyone else on deck.

“Yes, I did.” His voice is very quiet, full of remorse, and his response ends with a breathy sigh.

“Do you feel like you have fulfilled your end of the bargain?” Again, I’m speaking as I would to a disobedient sailor, not to my lover.

He hesitates to answer, probably afraid of the consequences of his words. His body is quaking beneath my fingers. I squeeze his shoulder more tightly, making sure I have his attention.

“ _Do you_?” I repeat, as though my patience is running thin, this time, grasping his chin with the hand that was wrapped around his waist, tilting his face up to meet my eye.

“N-no,” his voice purrs, ever so gently. Konoe’s fur is _lovely_ when it’s fluffed out to this extent, when his pupils are blown wide. He looks slightly more afraid that I’d prefer, but I think the fear will feed into his experience. I hope he will learn from this.

“So, how are you going to make it up to the crew? I _know_ how you can make it up to me, and you _will_ make it up to me. But you cannot be making lewd noises like this, especially not _right_ after I forbid it, and expect no consequences. This disobedience will _not_ be tolerated. The crew deserves to see that you have _paid_ for your insolence.”

Understanding lights up in Konoe’s eyes, and it simultaneously adds to his terror. Things are _not_ proceeding the way he’d anticipated, but then, that lithe body of his betrays him  _despite_ his fear. I witness that _same_  sensual shiver, starting with his cute, pink ears all the way to the tip of his tail. His face brightens with a brand new blush because he _knows_ I saw that shiver. He licks his lips before opening his mouth.

“Wh-what are you going t-to _do_ to me?” He sounds frightened, but his voice is _covered_ in lust. It’s an almost sticky, honeyed sound, and it gets my juices flowing to near distraction. The crew has given up trying to pretend they are ignoring our interaction. No one can look away.

“Exactly what we discussed,” I say matter-of-factly. “Right here. Out in the open. Where the crew can watch you learn your lesson.”

“N-no,“ his voice protests, full of anxiety, and he tries to pull away. “Please, not here—“

“Oh, I don’t think so, little one. You don’t get to choose. You made your choice when you disobeyed me. Get over here.” I sit down a barrel about midship, pulling him along with me, rather roughly. I figure the crew will have the best view here. Gods, I’m excited to do this. I can’t _believe_ how hard I am—I can barely control myself.

I pull him across my lap and hold him still by squeezing his body between my thighs. I remove one of my belts, and Konoe’s eyes flash up to mine in fear— _real_ terror—when he hears the buckle clink. My mind is hazy, blurry—and I can hardly wait to get started.

“Rai—“ his voice pleads, ever so softly. I think I feel his knees shaking.

“That’s _Captain_ to you,” I say, my voice loud and hard, unmoving. “Even _more_ insolence? I’d think in this state you’d learn your _place_ and show a little _respect_.”

I wonder if I may be going overboard for the poor little kitten in my lap, but I’m _so_ excited to finally be getting my hands on him, I can’t _help_ myself.

“Captain,” he begs, “please, _please_ —you’re not going to use a _belt_?” He sounds truly afraid, and the fear in his voice—oh gods, it's the _fear_ in his voice—brings saliva to my mouth and hardens my dick like a rock. It won’t occur to me till later that my reaction might _not_ be normal—but I don’t dwell on it, for now.

“You should count yourself lucky you’re not getting the _whip_ , my pretty little thing,” I continue, “which is what most of the crew probably thinks you deserve. But I think a belt should satisfy them.”

A frenzied cheer goes up, and the small cat—no, he’s truly a kitten now—caught between my legs, seems to shrink in size, completely flattening his ears against his head, and he hides his face.

“Come on up, then.” I bend his small body over my knee, pulling him onto his tiptoes. Oddly, one of those same, sexual-sounding purring sounds leaks out of him, the minute I pull his yukata up over his hips, revealing his perfect, round ass. I hesitate to do this in front of the crew—I _don’t_ want to share his perfection with them, but I think he needs to feel this humiliation for the full effect of the punishment.

He is pleading with me—“ _Please_ , no, I can’t do this, not here, _please_ , please”—and his voice, gods— _that voice_ —it’s doing something to me. But it _certainly_ isn’t discouraging me from what I’m about to do. If anything, I feel lust I’ve never felt, and a desire to punish him for turning on my entire crew, just because he was vocal about enjoying the sights! I want to _humiliate_ him, and I want him to feel like he is _mine_ , and mine _alone_.

Gods, every time I see that ass, I can’t help myself. I hear murmurs of appreciation, which I ignore, and I run my hand over the smooth, perfect globes possessively, and feel him shiver beneath my hand. He is shaking with fear now as well as anticipation, and I’m about to explode from the excitement.

I fold the belt in half, making sure to keep the buckle away from his tender skin. I pause just a moment, enjoying the sensation of him on my lap—unable to _believe_ that this is actually happening. I run my hand over his ass one more time—in fact, I let my fingers slip in between his cheeks—and I feel his dick twitch against my legs. He’s half hard!  _Gods, this cat!_ He’s going to be the death of me, I know it!

I give him the first blow, right in the center of those cheeks. The sound of the belt slapping his soft skin is more than impressive—not just the sound from the belt, but also the cry that tears from his mouth. He is shocked by the stinging pain that follows. While it _is_ a cry of pain, the purring in his voice is still present—I can even _feel_ the rumbling purr from his body against my thighs.

However—I notice feel two things on my lap immediately after the first blow. First, Konoe’s fluffy tail starts to undulate back and forth, _more_ than provocatively. In fact, it looks like it does when he’s getting close to climax. It’s _incredibly_ sexy—however, I _really_  dislike that he’s doing this in front of the crew. Second, while I could feel that his dick had previously slightly softened (probably because of his fear, humiliation, and anxiety), after receiving the first stinging smack on his ass, I can feel him stiffen against my thighs. And he _continues_ to stiffen with each blow. And since he’s nude, I even feel him leaking on my legs—he is _that_ hard—from a fucking _belt spanking_!

The next blow is equally as loud, but I concentrate more on the left cheek, the third more on the right. The fourth I aim slightly lower, close to where the rounded shape of his ass and his legs meet—one of his most sensitive spots. When I groom him there, I can instantly get him in the mood, in fact. With that blow, I earn myself a delicious-sounding high-pitched scream from the kitten squirming in my lap, and both small hands come up to protect his bare bottom.

He is still struggling to get off my lap and away from the punishment—he is _far_ from submission. I hesitate to spank him much harder as I don’t wish to leave welts—so instead, I pin his hands behind his back, grabbing hold of the base of his tail with the same hand. This gives me perfect control of his body and makes him arch his back and bottom  _quite_ nicely. I hear _adorable_ , frustrated sighs leaking from his mouth as well.

I know how to use a belt. I can make it _sound_ loud without doing any damage. It looks painful, it sounds painful, and it leaves lovely pink stripes on that gorgeous pale skin of his—which match his gorgeous pink ears—without doing any longterm or serious damage. He won’t blister, he won’t bruise, it won’t break the skin or leave welts. This is meant to sting, frighten, and humiliate, but _not_ cause permanent damage. I only want him to _submit_ to me.

The sounds from his mouth change from single loud shouts with each blow, to louder, screaming cries, then to moans and groans, all tinged with that purring sexual overtone. And I can tell from the faces of the crew that this is _quite_ a treat for them. Crew members with partners are going to head back to their own quarters for some extracurricular activities tonight, I suspect. Hell, even those _without_ partners will be up for something!

Also, I try to remember the goal is to make him _submit_ and _obey_. I know he said he didn’t want to be a possession, but I don’t think he realizes his position. And like I said, I don’t mind some feisty behavior, especially not in the bedroom, and especially not if it means we can resort to this sort of reward/consequence play. But he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t understand who I am. I may not be able to love him like he is asking me to. And he needs to understand that he has _no_ choice in this relationship. Well, his choice is to obey _now_ , or obey later and suffer the consequence. This is _not_ a relationship in which he can assert his rights.

In fact, _I do own him_ , and _I will not share_. I see him as _mine_.

After the next few spanks, the sweet little kitten releases several lovely cries—and then _finally_ , _tears_. Once his individual cries blend into constant tears, I know we are nearly there. Once his body relaxes into the punishment, I know he’s submitted. He may not have accepted his position entirely, but at least he isn’t fighting _this_ punishment anymore. It’s taken much longer than I suspected it would, but I don’t mind at all. And so, I start to slow down the blows.

I give him two more very hard slaps on his sit spot—hard enough so he will feel them tomorrow and _remember_ them—and he yelps very loudly, with tears and sobs—and then, I let the belt fall to the deck. Now comes the fun part. Using my hand, I rub his bare bottom, and it’s hot to the touch and nearly cherry red. It’s _amazingly_ beautiful—matching his adorable pink ears—I wish I could keep his ass and his ears this color all the time. I want to _lick_ it—in fact, it takes everything I have not to start grooming him right _here_ and now, so I’d best finish up what I’m doing, and get on with it.

Keeping him on display, his yukata disheveled, I pull him up to a kneeling position on my lap, facing me. His face is covered in tears, and he is still crying when he looks at me. His face looks genuinely wounded, pained, as though his feelings are hurt. It pains my heart when he looks at me like this, but he is _so_ beautiful.

“You did well. I’m _proud_ of you. I’m sure the crew feels you took your punishment well, too, and that they can forgive you, both for your insolence and leading them on earlier this evening.” I speak to him encouragingly, brushing the hair out of his face. With him facing me, however, I can see how hard he is—gods, it looks like he’s about to come. I’m _amazed_ —and from a belt spanking—jeez!

I glance around at the crew—the audience has grown significantly, probably drawn here by Konoe’s wonderful scent and his delicious-sounding cries—and they give a loud cheer.

“I think that’s enough of an outing for you today, however.” I’m using my inside voice now, which is surprisingly husky and breathless. I pick him up, throwing him over my shoulder, keeping my hand on that warm red ass of his—and I hear him protest as I touch it—I wonder if it’s sore to the touch? Did I perhaps go overboard? It isn’t as though I didn’t warn him, though. It was _his_ choice to disobey me. I gave him a fair warning!

In quick strides, I carry him across the deck, his bottom exposed to the cool night breeze, and then back to my quarters. I want to get to work on grooming this gorgeous ass of his—as well as taking care of both of our issues that have "arisen" during this event.

Plus, he still needs to make up his insolence to _me_ , I think, with an evil grin. That spanking was just for the sake of the crew—not to make up his insolence to _me_. I have some ideas brewing...


	2. Siren of the Sea - Mink x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another scene from Siren of the Sea. Actually, I'd forgotten about this one. Not particularly sexy, but very spanky.
> 
> Captain Mink has kidnapped Konoe and their first interaction is quite unpleasant, especially for Konoe. This is from Konoe's POV.
> 
> Warning: There's a fairly cruel whipping in this chapter, and Mink's intentions are to subjugate the second Siren to his will, so he does everything he can to humiliate Konoe. Also, Mink is fairly single-minded in this tale, making like the Mink who strangles Aoba. I've been told he is OOC for his cruelty.

The door of the room opens with a clanking noise, making me realize that there are actual _bars_ on the door. Mink keeps his Siren locked in a _cage_ , and now, I’m in here with him. I feel fear in the pit of my stomach when I hear the sound of jingling keys.

“What are you _doing_ to him, Aoba?” Mink’s voice is menacing.

“I was only comforting him. He is afraid and alone and missing his master.” Aoba sounds quietly defiant.

“And how is that _your_ job? Perhaps you could think of comforting _me_ , your _own_ master and captain. But you don’t have that in your cold, hard heart, do you?” Mink looms over Aoba as he speaks. I’m frozen in place, not knowing what to do.

Aoba covers me protectively. “He is a _much_ more delicate creature than I am—even more so than I was when I first came here, Mink! You _can’t_ treat him like you’ve treated me!”

“And who are _you_ to tell me what I can and cannot do?” Mink’s hand comes down in a flash, smacking Aoba’s cheek hard enough to knock him backward, knocking me out of his arms. He pulls Aoba up off the floor by his arm and grabs his ear, and a pained squeal comes out of Aoba’s mouth that sends shivers down my spine.

I reach up and put my hand on Mink’s arm, and I beg. “Please.” On my knees, once again on the dirty floor. “I’ll come with you, and do what you want. Just tell me what you want from me. You’ve hurt him enough. _Please_ , no more.”

Mink’s cool blue eyes turn to face me, interested that I have spoken, and _shocked_ that I’d dare interrupt. “Rai hasn’t trained you to keep quiet, little one?” He looks down at me, looming over me.

I feel my body trembling. I answer quietly, “Punish me if you like, for my insolence, for my interruption. But Aoba has had _enough_.”

I hear a guffaw from Mink. “Aren’t you a brave little fellow? I see why Rai finds you fascinating. Come along then.” He drops Aoba to the floor, and I hear those heavy shackles clank against the ground, a grunt of pain expelled from Aoba’s mouth.

“Konoe!” Aoba yells after me, as I’m dragged from the room.

Mink picks me up and throws me over his shoulder like a sack of flour. The halls are dark, but I’m sure we are still on land. This is not a ship. I just _hope_ Rai will find me, and _soon_ , before this monster kills me. He will find me, won’t he? I hear Mink open a door, and he walks inside. He throws me unceremoniously to the floor and has a seat in a chair, crossing his legs.

“My master, he’s all right, isn’t he?” I ask. I catch my breath after having the wind knocked out of me. What’s _with_ this cat, throwing smaller cats around like this? “Is he still here? Does he know where I am? Was he injured? He is _fiercely_ protective of me, you know? I’d hate for anything to happen to you if you were to treat me poorly.”

Mink looks down at me. He is terrifying. His chiseled face betrays no emotion. His cool blue eyes stare down at me without an ounce of feeling or sympathy. His dreadlocks are tied back with a pink bandana, and I’m shocked to see several hoops in his ear. They are different from mine, however, much wider in diameter, having stretched out the hole in his ear significantly. Are they jade, perhaps? But _why_ are his ears pierced? Isn’t that a sign of slavery?

“Why are _your_ ears pierced?” I can’t stop the questions from spilling from my lips. And worse, more words come tumbling out before I manage to stop them. “Does that mean you were once a slave, too?”

His eyes look at me harshly, and I _immediately_ regret my questions. But it almost felt like _I_ wasn’t the one asking. “You ask _entirely_ too many questions and talk _way_ too much with that voice of yours,” Mink states, but his voice isn’t cruel. It sounds more like he is enduring something annoying rather than threatening me. “And don’t you at least wait for an answer before you go on to the next question? You’re so poorly trained.”

I don’t like him talking about training me as though I were a pet. And making it worse, he reaches out to my ears, stroking them gently. “These are even softer than they appear. Your white fur feels downy, like Tori’s feathers.” He nods toward the corner of the room, where I spy a perch. And on that perch, I see that gigantic, majestic cockatoo, in all his proud white and pink glory, where he preens himself elegantly.

Watching him preen himself with his tiny eyepatch in place, a little giggle escapes. I can’t help it! He looks _exactly_ like my master would if he himself were a bird. Just slightly pinker. Rai grooms himself in exactly the same way as if putting on a show.

Mink is stunned by my laughter. “Are you really such a light-hearted spirit, that you can find something to laugh about, even when your future is at stake, while your safety is in question?” I can tell he _means_ to speak harshly, but his tone is more surprised than anything else.

“It’s not that,” I explain. “It’s just that your bird reminds me of my master. If _he_ were a bird, this is what he would look like.” When I say these words, the cockatoo stops his grooming at looks up at me, as if he understands my words. He looks almost _offended_. That expression _really_ looks like Rai! “Even _that_ expression! How he elegantly preens himself reminds me of him so much.”

“I am _not_ a cat,” comes a gravelly voice from the corner perch. What the hell? Did he speak? The bird just spoke? I am shocked. I look to Mink and back to the bird. I rub my ears, thinking I must have misheard.

When I look at Mink, I see him rolling his eyes. “What a frivolous creature you are. It must be your nature. Carefree and frivolous. Aoba was like that when I first claimed him.”

I’m quiet for a moment, and I sit up on the floor, keeping my back straight, hugging my knees to my body, wrapping my tail snuggly around myself. I try to look submissive, as per Aoba’s instructions.

“Why do you keep him locked up in such a sad place?” I ask. “He’s unhappy there. He’s alone, broken, in despair. What are you trying to do to him?”

“It’s Aoba’s choice to remain where he is. He knows he could stay with me and have every care of his met. All he has to do is obey my commands. But he refuses to submit to my will.”

What is this man talking about? I’ve never seen a more submissive creature than Aoba! I’m honestly shocked to hear him say these things.

“Perhaps he is _unable_ to do as you wish, because of how he is kept,” I suggest delicately.

Mink leans down toward me, leaning the entirety of his massive upper body in my direction. I shrink away from him reflexively. He _frightens_ me. Perhaps I _am_ speaking out of turn.

“I am sorry,” I cast my eyes down. “I spoke out of turn. I don’t know what it is you want him to do. I only know about poor living conditions from my own limited experience. Please forgive me.”

His hand reaches out and grabs my collar, and he pulls me up onto his lap. I feel utter revulsion when he touches me, when my body comes in contact his. A wave of nausea comes over me. Please, _no_ —the thought of him touching me intimately disgusts me.

“Your purpose—it’s _not_ speaking, little one. You have quite a lesson to learn, and I’m more than happy to teach you.” I flinch when I hear the word “lesson” from Mink, and my breath catches. I also feel my heart rate increase. “Your role is to please your master in every way. I’m not sure exactly _what_ that arrogant silver cat has been teaching you, but I can tell he is _much_ too permissive for my taste. You need much stricter discipline, at least while you are in my household.”

Keeping one hand on my collar, which holds me in his lap, straddling his large thighs, he moves his other hand down my back toward the base of my tail, which he grabs and pulls cruelly. A small pained noise comes out of my mouth, and a tear slips down my cheek.

“Oh, tears already? Is this part of the Siren’s nature as well? Aoba is a crybaby, too. I’ve barely even touched you yet!” He looks at my face closely. I want him to get his hands _off_ my tail. 

“Actually, let’s see what you’ve got in you as far as obedience and compliance goes. Maybe you can teach Aoba something, or perhaps you need to _learn_ from him. You said I could punish you for your insolence, after all, and I’ll be punishing you for excessive lip.” He releases his hands from my collar and tail, and I fall off his lap, gracelessly, onto the floor again.

“Get to your feet,” his harsh voice commands. I obey as quickly as I can. “Remove your clothes. You won’t require them while you’re here anyway. Sirens do not need clothing. They only hinder your duties.”

Hearing these words, I feel diminished as a person—like he’s made me into an object—and I feel shame. I know he doesn’t see me as a fellow cat. Blood rushes to my face and ears as I reach for the button on my coat. As I unbutton it, I try my question one more time.

“Is my master safe? Is he here? Was he left unharmed?”

I see a flash of silver from Mink’s hand—the rings on his fingers—just before his hand makes contact with my face. I hear a ringing in my ears when his hand connects with my cheek, and the blow forces more tears from my eyes. I bring both my hands up to cover my cheek in shock—I nearly lost my balance when he hit me with the impact of the blow, though I know he took it _easy_ compared to when he hit Aoba.

“I asked you to _strip_ , not ask questions,” Mink snarls. “Shut your mouth and obey.”

A small whimper leaks out of my mouth, and I try to hurry. I feel swelling in my cheek where he hit me, and I taste blood in my mouth. I even bit my tongue from the force of the blow. That was the first time anyone has ever hit me in the face like that.

I slip my arms out of the coat and look for a place to put it, looking to him for instructions.

“Leave it on the floor. I’ll have it discarded later. You won’t be needing it again.”

My heart aches when I hear those words, but I try not to become discouraged. I unlace my boots and awkwardly pull them off my feet while remaining standing. Then, I unbuckle my belt and pull it off. I undo the knee garters on my breeches and pull off my stockings. I fold my clothing up neatly on the floor, rather than throwing it aside. I _don’t_ make eye contact with Mink as I disrobe. He is _not_ Rai. He is _not_ my master. He doesn’t deserve my best treatment.

My fingers are trembling when I reach the buttons on my breeches, and it takes a few tries to get them undone. I’m starting to feel overcome with fear. Mink watches me closely, and I’m sure he sees me shaking. I pull the breeches off my hips, and fold them up neatly, adding them to the pile of clothes. My blouse is long enough to cover my important parts anyway.

I get to work on the top button, which is about mid-way down my chest. As I undo the buttons, I hear a gasp form Mink when he spies my nipple piercings.

“I noticed the chain when you walked into the bar,” he comments. “But as Rai is your owner, I thought there was no _way_ he’d do a traditional Sisa slave piercing on you. It looks _amazing_. Was it _painful_?” His voice actually shows interest, when he talks about me experiencing pain.

I don’t answer. I continue getting undressed.

“Oy,” comes his sharp voice. “I just asked you a question. It’d be in your best interest to answer.”

I look up, and his eyes gleam wickedly. “Of _course_ it hurt.”

“But what? You _enjoyed_ it? Do you enjoy pain? You suffered in spite of the pain for your _beloved_ _master’s_ sake?” I _hate_ the mocking tone in his voice. I’ll be damned if I admit _any_ of those things, but I certainly cannot let him know about my strange relationship with pain and pleasure under any circumstances.

“Because he’s my master, I tolerated it. It was our first interaction. He’s made up for any pain he’s caused since then. He explained it signifies ownership and it will protect me from his crew as well as others.”

“How’s _that_ worked out for you so far? That _protection_ , I mean.” Mink continues, absolute derision in his voice. I hate him. I _hate_ him. I want Rai, and I want out of here.

“He will come back for me,” I say quietly.

Mink’s hands reach out for me quite suddenly, pulling me in close. He’s uncrossed his legs, and he pulls me between them, pressing me against his crotch. He has his hands on the silk blouse. “Such _fine_ fabric. You haven’t been with Rai for long, have you? It’s less than two weeks between here and Sisa, so it’s been about that amount of time, hasn’t it? And yet, he managed to find such _fine_ clothing for you, and it fits so well?”

“I don’t know how he managed it, either.” Truthfully, I _don’t_ wear much clothing on the ship—or haven’t been wearing much on the ship, though it was available if I wanted it. I’ve been uncomfortably hot, and it just slows me down. However, every piece I’ve tried on fits me to a tee. I have _no_ idea how he gets the sizes so perfect if I’ve never even been measured.

I hear a ripping sound. Mink has torn the beautiful ivory silk from my chest, and he continues to shred it, piece by piece, from my body. With each tear, something is torn from my chest, from my _heart_. He has such a look of _joy_ in his eyes, though his face remains static, nearly expressionless.

“Like I said, fine clothes or not, you _won’t_ need them while you’re in my company,” he explains. I watch as tatters of the beautiful blouse fall to the ground. I don’t cry, however. And now, I’m standing nude between his legs. I keep my eyes cast down to the floor.

“You certainly do have a lovely form,” Mink says admiringly. “Lithe, athletic, slim but not too thin. You’re more petite than Aoba, even. And your skin is amazingly smooth.” I feel his hands against my sides, running down underneath my arms, along my torso, dipping in at my waist, out at my hips. “This line of your body is particularly attractive.” The feeling of disgust wells up in my throat like vomit.

I look up for a moment, meeting his blue eyes with my large honey-colored ones. My expression is sad, almost pitying. He has his _own_ Siren, which is so very rare, very uncommon. If he had only taken better care of Aoba, he could have had a relationship like Rai enjoys with me. But he hasn’t done that. He has his own selfish motives, and he’s crushed everyone near and dear to Aoba. And now, he does nothing but punish the blue cat, who in return, keeps to himself.

“You have quite defiant eyes,” Mink says. “How are we going to fix this?” He seems to be asking himself. “Surely, your master must have punished you at _least_ once. I’m sure Rai must have enjoyed it. I know exactly what _I’d_ like to do, in fact. What about you? Didn’t you find it effective?”

“Captain Mink, sir,” I address him formally. “What is it you _want_ from me?”

Mink stands up suddenly, walking to a dresser. His room is really inelegant. It can’t _possibly_ be a hotel—it’s dusty, though the floors in here are cleaner than some of the other rooms we passed, and much cleaner than Aoba’s dungeon. I hear some clinking noises as he returns to me. He’s holding up some heavy-looking chains.

“Here, _instead_ of clothing, Sirens wear shackles,” Mink explains. “This reminds them that there is no escape. And it also provides those around them with additional control in case the Siren were to try something unnecessary. Hold out your hands.”

Reluctantly, I hold out my hands as instructed. “Engraved gold wrist cuffs?” Mink whistles. “Nothing but the _best_ for this spoiled kitten, I see.” The chains are quite heavy, once they are connected to both of my wrists. “I require your ankles, too.”

I sit on the ground and lift my feet into his lap, and he attaches an additional chain between my ankles. He runs his hands along the soles of my feet, once the shackles are attached. They are heavy as well, making it harder to walk. The two chains between my wrists and ankles are attached to a third chain, which is attached to my collar. He runs a finger around the elegant scrollwork of the collar. “Each piece is a part of a matching set. I see you are _truly_ spoiled. You will _not_ hold such a position here. The sooner you learn that, the better.”

He grabs the chain cruelly, and I realize he can control my body now, making me feel like a puppet. _I hate this!_ Fresh tears fall from my eyes—frustrated, angry tears, and Mink doesn’t miss them.

“Crying _again_? Oh, I’ll _give_ you something to cry about in a minute.” He drags me by the shackles to the corner. “Here, you do _not_ cry unless you are in _pain_. There is _no_ self-pity here. Let’s give you something worth those precious tears of yours. Come.”

He drags my arms up overhead, attaching them to the wall in front of me and slightly above shoulder height, but he shoves a stool beneath my belly, so I’m draped up over it, bent over it, sticking my ass out behind me. My toes barely reach the floor—I work to maintain my balance, and when I do, the most I can do is stand on my tiptoes. Looking up, I see there is a mirror in front of me, hanging on the wall. Mink’s cruel expression is reflected in the mirror, and he’s watching me closely. How humiliating! My face is pink already, my ears and chest getting redder by the minute.

“This punishment is to cover _both_ your insolence earlier, when I was speaking to Aoba and you poked your nose in where it didn’t belong, and _also_ to teach you that there is no crying over superficial things. If there are tears, they are tears of _pain_.”

I watch as he caresses my ass with more than a little enthusiasm, and a chill runs through my body. I try to wiggle away from him, but I can’t since the stool is too tall. A wave of fear comes over me. I’m afraid of what he will do to me—and it feels like a bucket of ice water pouring over my back when I see him pull a slender leather whip from the dresser. Gods, a _whip_!

“N-no,” I beg. “Please— _please,_ have mercy! I already suffered at your hand when you punished Aoba earlier. _Please_ —have mercy!”

“Are you _afraid_ , kitten?” Mink asks in a silky voice, hand caressing my ass softly. “I can definitely see where you were affected earlier. I wondered what was going on then. Do you suppose Aoba will be able to feel your pain as well? I can’t _wait_ to find out. I usually have him count, but I don’t know how many strokes I want to give you. I don’t know how many it will take to break your will. I can’t _wait_ to see these perfect, round cheeks glowing red and jiggling.” His voice is laced with lust. I’m filled with absolute terror, and I can’t stop my tears.

“I’m hoping by the time we’re finished, you’ll be malleable in my fingers, like clay. Ready to be molded into whatever creature I desire.” His voice is _still_  filled with lust and desire—and I’m disgusted. “Lift up your face, and keep it raised, so I can see your expression in the mirror. I’ll be _mighty_ displeased if you fail.”

I lift up my chin as best as I can, and I see the whip coming down on my ass. It makes a whooshing sound, and I hear the smack on my ass—it cracks in the air, filling up the room with a full, satisfying sound. Only _after_ the sound rings in my ears does the pain register, and I let out a cry of pain. It’s much, _much_ worse than Rai’s belt. The whip is made of thin, smooth leather, so there’s almost no sound in the air. But the feeling when it hits my ass is so painful—it’s sharp, biting, and stinging, causing my body to twitch and jump.

I don’t get a chance to recover from the first crack before he brings it down for the next—and it hurts even more. This one is aimed lower, right where my legs and bottom meet. I give a shrieking cry in response. It’s _so_ sensitive there—where Rai likes to groom—and the burning sensation from the blow of the whip stays there for a long time after Mink moves on to another spot.

He aims for my right and left cheeks separately—and the thin whip makes for an exacting tool for punishment. He can aim exactly where he wants, and it inflicts the maximum amount of pain. I can feel the raised lines from where the whip has hit my flesh, reddening darkly, burning.

The next two blows are aimed lower still—against the tender backs of my thighs. I’ve _never_ been hit there, and the skin is smooth, unblemished, and extra sensitive. I cry in earnest complete with tears when the whip comes down against my legs—unable to bear it. I try to stand up, to escape the blows, but I can’t because my hands are shackled to the wall in front of me.

Mink aims a few more strokes against my ass, concentrating on each cheek and my sit spot before he kicks the stool a little closer to the wall. I try to stand up, and when I do, he smacks the backs of my thighs so soundly I snap my legs together and scream in pain.

“You will stay right where you are,” growls the low voice behind me. “Open your legs.”

I don’t think I can. He whips my thighs again, harder still—and another cry rips out of me. “Obey me, Siren. Open your legs, or I will _make_ you obey.” The whip comes down once more on my thighs—it hurts so much! In the mirror, I can see where the tip of the whip has reached the front of my thigh, and the mark left by it is raised and bright red.

When he whips my legs, I feel like I have to snap them together, defending myself, but I am truly _trying_ to obey. I simply can’t get my body to do what it’s supposed to, because the whipping hurts so much. Taking calming deep breaths, I am able to lean forward on the stool and spread my legs wide. I realize he has much better access to my sit spot now, which fills me with dread. I’m terribly exposed like this, and I worry he may do permanent damage to parts of me that should _never_ be touched with a whip.

“That’s a good boy,” Mink praises me. But his praise does _nothing_ for me. Especially not when the whip comes down against that tender part of my ass once more. I scream loudly, sobs wracking my body.

“Mink, _please_!” I beg. “I can’t take anymore— _please_ —please, stop.” I’m crying constantly now, not just when the whip comes down, but also in between blows.

“It’s too _early_ to be begging for mercy, little one,” Mink says. And then I feel the whip come down against my thighs, and it wraps itself around the inside of my leg. It hurts so much I nearly kick the chair over, and I scream louder than I have yet. The pain completely engulfs me, engulfs my body, and I start hallucinating. A glow comes over my body, and a song rises up from my chest.

It’s a song of protection and healing. My song has _never_ been used offensively—I don’t know how to use it to defend myself, really, either. But I _can_ use it to heal my wounds, and apparently, to heal wounds currently being inflicted when the pain becomes too much to bear. I can’t understand the lyrics of the song, but the melody definitely implies both healing and protection.

In the mirror, I see Mink’s shocked expression, but he also looks _delighted_. He cracks the whip cruelly, joyfully, once more against my open thighs, allowing the whip to snap against the sensitive flesh on the inside of my legs, reaching almost up to the crevice between them. I think I see him smiling, and I'm utterly revolted. I’m still in _terrible_ pain, and I reply with another terrifically loud scream. But the protection from the song seems to soften the after-effects, and it prevents the pain from spreading through my ass and down my legs.

He tries out the whip on my tail, which is excruciating as well. It wraps itself in my fur, matting it down, pulling some out by the root. I scream, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as the whipping against my thighs.

My tears are flowing full force, and my song flows continuously from my body. Mink is watching me with fascination, eyeing my reflection as he continues the punishment. I wonder if Aoba sings this way or if his song is different. The effort from the song, however, is wearing me thin, and also, my calves and legs are cramping from reaching up on tiptoe the past fifteen minutes. My legs shake in exhaustion and from pain, my breath is hitching, and I need _help_.

The outer edges of my eyes grey out, fading slowly like I’m looking through a tunnel. I am hoping— _sincerely_ hoping—that I lose consciousness, and _soon_. I can’t take anymore, and I simply must escape it somehow. I feel two more blows, directed to my inner thighs, the pain creeping up higher and higher each time. And finally, just before I lose consciousness completely, I vomit on the floor just in front of the mirror.

Then, my world turns black.


	3. Siren of the Sea - Rai x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another spanking from the Siren of the Sea series, much later than the scene with Mink.
> 
> Jealous Captain Rai has dragged Konoe back to his room and is looking to discipline his Siren.
> 
> Trigger warning: there is some intimidation in this chapter, and yes, a spanking. It's not terribly traumatic, however, as you have come to expect in this series. It's just these two need to get their act together.
> 
> And use some safe words. There are no safe words in Sisa.

I realize Rai is quite serious when he gets me back to the bedroom. I’m always a little intimidated when he goes into full capital-C-Captain mode—I can’t help remembering the first time I laid eyes on him when I was cowering in the corner, and he grabbed me like I was his property. He _still_ treats me this way, I realize—the power dynamic hasn’t shifted very much—and he uses it to his full advantage.

When he puts me on the bed, I find I’m more than a little annoyed that he interrupted my conversation with Aoba. I’m also annoyed that I’m intimidated by his current full-captain mode. I’m even _more_ annoyed that it turns me on as much as it does, but I’m going to just ignore that for now. I’m a Siren, I should have better control over myself when it comes to sex, shouldn’t I?

“You are way too possessive,” I state openly and directly. “It bothers me that you interrupted my important conversation because you couldn’t deal with your jealousy.”

I’m treated to a look of disdain, the likes of which I have only ever seen one other time—and that was on the deck of the _Joy_ , just before I was belted in front of the crew. Why is _that_ memory popping up into my head now, of all times? I shake my head as if that will clear it, but of course, it doesn’t, nor does the Captain change his expression.

“It bothers you, does it?” His voice is surprisingly low but still controlling.

“Yes, sir. It bothers me, _Captain._ ” I sneer his title in a snarky, sarcastic way. “I’m sorry, should I be kneeling at your feet?”

“At this point, that would probably help your case,” the low voice returns evenly, ever so matter-of-fact. “To me, it looks like you’ve forgotten yourself.”

“Forgotten myself?”  
  
“Yes, forgotten your role. Your _place_.” He waits for a moment. “Are you choosing to disobey me?”

“Disobey?”

“Yes, you're being terribly obstinate. I’m only looking out for your best interests,” his voice is infuriatingly even.

“ _My_ best interests? Don’t you mean _your_ best interests? How does any of this have to do with what is good for _me_ , what _I_ want?”

“Siren, why don’t you get on your knees before we continue this little disciplinary session? I think that will help you collect yourself and cool your head.” Gods! His voice is so calm! It’s pissing me off.

“I’m fine right here, just the way I am!”

“Are you? Do you feel that you need assistance?”

“Assistance? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Even before the last word leaves my mouth, my back is pressed against the mattress, and the silver cat is above me. I didn’t even see him move. He is really fast! He knocks the wind out of my lungs in both surprise and from the force of hitting the mattress so hard.

“I gave you a chance to comply willingly. Now, we will do this _my_ way.” His voice is still low, but slightly heated. 

The obi is pulled from my waist, the robe stripped from my shoulders, and I am forcibly pressed to the ground on my knees while he sits on the edge of the bed, all in a single swift movement—again, faster than I can process. Only now, I am naked, my fur bristling, and his hand is resting firmly on my shoulder, holding me in place.

“Do you feel you can comply now?” That blue eye is staring me down.

“Get the fuck off of me!” I shout—I was talking, and he interrupted, and I don’t like his rough handling. What the hell is he doing? And where are my clothes? I start to struggle, and Rai presses my shoulder slightly, pushing me back to my knees.

“Let me know when you feel you are ready to comply.” Again, calm—utterly calm. “Then, we will discuss the situation at hand.”

I quickly give up my struggle—it’s useless, pretty much, and I’m honestly a little afraid. We haven’t done this before, and I’m not sure how serious he is being. Is he serious about this being a disciplinary session? 

I calm myself, trying to keep my fluffy tail in front of my lap to cover my nudity, but it won’t be still. My heart is pounding in my ears, and I’m hoping that staring at my tail will make it be still. It doesn’t. I feel his hand lift up from my shoulder, and I’m overcome with curiosity. I am compelled to look at his face. If I peek up at him, I might be able to tell how serious he is.

What is this even about?

Without lifting my face, I raise only my eyes, looking at him under my lashes. I can feel my heart racing in my mouth. I’m really actually afraid—almost as afraid as I was on deck—and _why_ am I thinking of that again? It’s not helpful to the situation at hand! I’m _mad_! I don’t _want_ to be turned on right now.

When I peek up at his face, I see just an upward curve of a smile flash across his lips, before the serious Captain’s face shows up again.

“Are you able to control yourself?”

“Yes,” although my voice comes out a little irritated.

“Do you wish to register a complaint?”

“Do I _what_?” I can’t believe my ears.

“I said,” Rai’s fingers tip my chin up to meet his gaze. “Do you wish to register a complaint? Do you have an issue with my treatment of you?”

The rage I’ve just suppressed, the anger that I’ve just managed to calm, all the injustice—it boils up and over in a flash.

“Yes, gods damn it, I wish to register a fucking complaint!” I snap.

“Hou?” he hums. “Let’s hear it, then. I suppose asking you to issue it respectfully would be out of the question?” 

How the fuck is he so calm? Is he deliberately provoking me?

“Where the hell do _you_ get off dragging me off in the middle of my fucking conversation, like you fucking _own_ me? What the hell is that about? I hate it! I will _not_ be treated like a fucking possession! I refuse!”

“Hou?” he hums again. “Do you think you could use the word 'fuck' any more times in a single outburst? That was impressive. Anything else bothering you?”

“Why am I kneeling? Why the fuck did you strip me?” 

“All valid questions, which I will answer. Anything else?” Still calm—that pale blue eye looks almost icy cool—except—there’s the hint of a smile playing on the corners of his mouth. And it’s really aggravating me!

“I’m fucking pissed!”

“I can see that. Anything else? Any other complaints?”

I’m grumbling, my fangs bared, a growl in my throat, even after getting this out of my system, I do not feel any better.

“Is that everything?” Rai asks me, tilting my chin up to his face again, meeting my hot glare with his cool, calm gaze.

“I think so,” I huff.

“Konoe,” he starts, and all the hair on my body stands upright when he says my name, in preparation for his command. “Why don’t you get yourself comfortable on my lap while I answer your questions?”

What? To my shame and embarrassment—and I really do _try_ to resist—I crawl up from the ground over his lap. I’m naked—exposed—but I rest my upper body on the mattress, letting my legs drop off over the side of the bed. I bury my face in my arms.

Gods damn it. He _commanded_ me! He commanded me and humiliated me!

Fuck this. Fuck _him_.

No, like, literally, I’d _really_ like to fuck him right now. Shit, gods damn it! What is  _wrong_ with me? Why do I find this entire exchange so damn hot?

“Your ears are red, Konoe,” he says quietly. Another shiver goes through my body. “Would you like me to address your concerns?”

I feel his hands stroking my bare skin gently—but dangerously—and only now do I realize now why he stripped off my clothes. Oh— _that_ kind of disciplinary session. 

A small tug on my tail lifts my ass up a little higher on his lap, and his touch feels—oh—it feels damned good.

“Yes,” I whisper. 

“All right, if I have your attention, perhaps you will recall, I asked you not to leave the room without first letting me know where you were going. When I got out of the shower, you weren’t here, and I was worried. You may think nothing of it—but I feel responsible for you—for your physical well-being, for your emotional well-being, for your care—and when you weren’t here, naturally I was upset.”

He continues stroking my tail, caressing my ass lightly, my lower back, my thighs, as he talks, as though this is the "natural" thing to do.

“Konoe, your words earlier, you said, I dragged you off as if I owned you. Have you forgotten? I actually _do_ own you. You are _mine_.”

I feel a tiny tug on the chain between my nipples. And yes, I had forgotten. It possibly slipped my mind.

“You’ve had a lot of freedom on this island—and that freedom has gotten you into some trouble. I feel like I haven’t done a good job of looking after you, either—with… all the things that have happened to you. One option is that I could keep you restrained at all times, which is what _most_ owners do to their slaves. I’d like to avoid that, if possible.”

He strokes my pierced ear, and I shiver.

“Another option would be to offer you a gentle reminder that you are _mine_. You do not have to care for the worries of this world—I will look after everything for you. But you do, in fact, _belong_ to me. So when you are angry that I treat you like a possession, it confuses me. When you say you ‘refuse’ to be treated as such, I might offer you a reminder that you have no such choice.”

More caresses to my ass, brushing up against my sensitive sit spot, threateningly.

“I had you kneel to put you in your place, to remind you of your role—you are the _slave_. You are _my_ Siren, Konoe. And I stripped you—well, I think you’ve probably figured it out by now—to make this disciplinary session slightly more convenient for me.”

I shiver at the sound of his voice—he really is scary, even and  _especially_ when he isn’t yelling. He has had his own command for years, and he can command me with just my name. Even when he says the words, “You are my Siren, Konoe,” those words sink into my ears and into my heart, ruffling up my fur. Not entirely unpleasantly, either, I hate to admit.

“I don’t wish to keep you bound and gagged for the rest of your life, although if you behave like this in the future, I will do what is necessary to force your obedience.”

Force my obedience?

Shit. Is he being serious? I thought this was in exchange for—I thought—wasn’t this—wait—

“Rai—” A small protest comes from my mouth when I feel his hand cupping my ass softly. “Wait— _please_ —wait—”

“Another complaint?” A deep sigh. “Out with it, then.”

“W-wasn’t this supposed to be, um, i-in exchange for, you know…” I purposely let my voice trail off vaguely.

“In exchange? What was supposed to be in exchange for what?”

“You said you would, um,” my ears are burning now, and I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to say it. “You would t-take m-me over your knee i-if I let you…”

“If you let me what?” I might be mistaken, but I think Rai might be _smiling_. I take a quick glance over my shoulder, and he is _actually_ smiling. What the hell? Is he _enjoying_ this? “If you let me _what_?”

He’s going to make me _say_ it? Like hell. _Fuck this._ It’s not worth it. He can spank me as much as he wants—hell, I’ll probably even like it, but I’m _not_ going to say it. I stubbornly lower my face to the mattress, my ears on fire.

“Siren,” his voice suddenly barks, and I jump. “Konoe, look at me and finish your question.”

Shit. I try to press my lips together, but it hurts too much to disobey a direct order. I have to comply—when he says my name, I _have_ to comply.

“You’re too cruel,” I whine, looking over my shoulder.

“You shouldn’t blush so prettily, then,” he smiles right at me. “You were asking?”

“You said you would take me over your knee if I let you fuck me in my Siren form. Isn’t this what we are doing here? Why are you being so mean?”

“Mean?” Rai looks a little surprised, and then his smile deepens. “You think _this_ is mean? Siren, I’m not using a belt or a hairbrush. I haven’t even gotten started. Give me a little credit here.”

He reaches out toward my ears again. “Gods, your ears are too cute.”

I lower my face back to the mattress, and then he stops me.

“Wait.”

Oh, no. I have a very, very bad feeling.

Several pillows are roughly shoved underneath my chest, propping me up a little bit higher on the bed.

“I want to see your face.”

No! I can’t! 

“Konoe, I want to see your face. Show me your face.” His hands start stroking my tail again, and roughly, yanking my ass up a little higher, lifting me up on his lap. “Fold your legs underneath your body, raise yourself up for me a little more. Are you comfortable?” 

“No, not at _all_!” I complain, but I’m looking right at him—facing him—at least exposing my face to him, though my eyes remain closed. “ _Please_ —don’t make me do this—” 

The first smack comes down against my sit spot—and it’s not very hard, but it surprises me and it makes me cry out. It stings—just because Rai’s hand is so large and covers so much area—and I wonder how the hell someone could get _good_ at spanking. Discipline, I get. But how the hell does he know how to _spank_ someone so it feels like this?

He spanks me again—the same way, stroking my tail when he’s done, and that sends another shiver up my spine. If I open my eyes, I can see his eyes moving from my ass to my face. This is—I’m not sure if I feel humiliated or really, really sexy—or a little bit of both. 

The third time he spanks me, to my surprise, my lower back arches up to meet his hand. I _want_ his touch. _Bad_ —I want it very much.

His hand slips in-between my cheeks, rubbing out most of the stinging sensations and making my skin tingle.

“You’re getting pink already—though not as pink as your ears. When I’m finished here,”—smack—“your ass is going to be as pink as your ears.”

Smack!

Each time his hand connects to my skin, I can feel something coming loose in my chest, breaking open—like a flower bursting into bloom. The pain from the spanking singes my nerves—and I feel myself submitting to the power behind his touch, lifting myself up a little more each time, leaning into it.

He is moving his hand a little faster now, and some of the blows are landing on the backs of my thighs—and these actually hurt—making me cry out—but because he is playing with my tail at the same time, I am confused as to which sensations are pleasure and which are pain.

Compared to the belting he gave me on deck, this is a much, _much_ milder punishment, and he is my only audience. The fact that he is watching me so closely—watching my face—at first, I _hate_ it. I don’t like the feeling of him watching me, not at all.

Then, I open my eyes, and I realize something. I can see _his_ expression, too. It is not at _all_ calm, it is not at _all_ cool, it is not at _all_ collected. He is incredibly aroused and excited. He’s enjoying this at least as much as I am, if not even more.

I forgot—he loves power—he loves feeling dominant. Should I be offended? Should I be insulted? Should I feel hurt? Should I feel disgusted?

I don’t feel any of those things. If anything—it turns me on that I can affect him this way—that I, Konoe from Karou, am affecting Rai, captain of the pirate slaving ship, _The Murderous Joy_ , in this way. I don’t give a flying fuck what the implications of these feelings might be. It turns me on!

Is this all a game?

As soon as I realize I can watch his facial expressions change—and they do change—every time whatever is happening inside my body opens up a little more, and I reach out a little more—he reacts—I cannot look away. I can’t help myself. My voice is crying out loudly—perhaps I started out crying out in pained yelps, but my cries now—they are _not_ cries of pain. They are cries of yearning. I’m crying out to be touched _more_. 

Each moment he pulls his hand away becomes painful.

My thighs start to quiver and I can feel myself leaking on his lap—probably ruining his robe—he will need to change when this is over—but I don’t plan on letting that be a problem—because as soon as he has had enough—as soon as he deems me sufficiently punished, sufficiently submitted to his will—I plan to overtake him.

I think he reads it in my face and I watch as the realization of my intent dawns in his eyes.

He speeds up the volleys, making me cry out a little louder, a little longer, and I push my ass back into his hand, willingly, never breaking eye contact.

The Siren inside my body breaks loose suddenly—and I hear a melody cracking open in my chest now—and Rai stops his hand. I take that moment to leap up and attack him, overwhelming him, covering his face, his neck, and his lips with kisses. I push him down against the mattress, straddling him, my ass burning with heat, and he returns my kisses fervently, grabbing my tail and massaging it firmly.

He listens intently to the song covering the room as we continue kissing, touching, caressing—and he allows me to strip off his robe.

And again—now I wonder—am I _his_ Siren or is he _my_ prey?

This was indeed a much-needed disciplinary session.


	4. Siren of the Sea - Rai x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another piece from Siren of the Sea.
> 
> Konoe wakes up alone and thinks it would be a good idea to wander around the ship and find the captain. After meeting several new members of the crew and getting into a little trouble, Rai doesn't appreciate him wandering around freely. He shows his lack of appreciation with a spanking.
> 
> This is one of the more consensual ones.

(...)

Rai pulls my arm and leads me back to the captain's quarters. Once we get to our room, he practically pushes me inside, closing the door behind him with force nearing a slam.

“What did you think you were doing?” The captain’s voice is still in full-blown power mode, and I’m shaken, my good mood from earlier ruined—not just from Virus’s assault, but also now from the attitude I’m getting from my lover.

“I was just on my way to find you,” I say, struggling to keep my voice soft.

“You thought it would be a good idea to stroll around on deck in your current condition?” Rai asks sharply, crossing his arms, coming slightly closer.

“My _condition_? What condition?”

“Konoe.” A shiver rushes through my body when he says my name. He can command me this way, but no command comes. Even when he simply says my name, though, my body readies itself for his command. “Your scent—it’s overpowering.”

My scent? Since when?

“I didn’t realize—”

“Just because you didn’t realize doesn’t make it not so!” Rai snaps, interrupting me. My ears flatten against my head in response to his harsh reply. “You needlessly put yourself in danger!”

“I didn’t notice a difference!” I lose my own self-control and raise my voice. “It’s not as though I can smell my own scent—and you didn’t say anything!” 

“The entire trip here you were confined to my quarters, with the exception of being out on deck with me one single time—and _that_ , as you may recall, didn’t go quite as well as you hoped—so why would the return trip be any different?!”

“Don’t you trust me? After all we have been through since then? Plus, I’m not in heat anymore—”

“That may be so, but you smell ripe and ready for the picking, and I _won’t_ share you with the rest of my crew!”

“Isn’t that what these piercings are for?!” I tug on my own nipple piercings, and I watch his pupil dilate, making his pale blue eye appear dark for a moment. “You did this in order to protect me from them, didn’t you?”

“Konoe—these are _pirates_! They have no qualms taking what is not theirs! And I’ve since added to the crew since some chose to remain behind. Are you really that wet behind those obnoxiously large ears of yours?!” 

“Obnoxiously large… what? Fuck you!” I shout back. “If you find my ears so repulsive, then you don’t have look at them! Do you expect me to stay in this room for the entire trip?! I’ll go crazy! I need the sunshine. I need fresh air!”

“Then open the gods damn window!” Rai is actually _shouting_ at me. I don’t think I've ever seen him so riled up before, and he is _pissed_. I hardly notice, since my own body is thrumming with adrenaline—I’m pretty angry myself.

“If it was _really_ that big of a deal, why didn’t _you_ lock the door behind you?” I challenge. “In the past, you’ve had no qualms about locking me in here, or chaining me up to the bed and simply leaving me here! I _missed_ you. I was seeking you out, fool that I am! And I happened upon the female who is carrying my _child_. When were you planning on breaking the news—that you have her on board _or_ that she is carrying my child?!” I shout question after question, and I notice my voice is starting to break. My voice changes from anger to grief. I do _not_ wish to be locked up here. I do _not_ wish to be confined.

“Siren, you forget your place,” Rai’s voice lowers in both volume and heat, cooling suddenly.

“What, are you going to sentence me to ten lashings as well?!”

“Konoe, shut your mouth, stop this yelling, and calm yourself.” His command works, much to my frustration. I try to open my mouth, but I can’t even do that. That pisses me off even more. So while I’m not yelling, the calming down part isn’t working.

Rai sits down heavily on a chair, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Come here,” he barks. I remain where I am, glaring at him with my arms crossed over my chest. He looks up at me angrily. “Konoe, get your ass over here. Now.”

My feet move on their own over to his chair, and I find myself sitting down in his lap. My molars grind in the back of my mouth, but I do not look at him. 

I _hate_ this. I hate him commanding me when I am so upset!

“Listen, I didn’t _want_ to keep you locked up like some kind of animal, but if that’s what you require, I will do it. I don’t like locking you in my room. It feels wrong. And I know you hate being left alone and restrained. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I hoped you would remember the danger of wandering around on board by yourself and stay in my quarters of your own accord. I hoped you had that much sense of self-preservation. It seems I was mistaken, but I was trying to restrain my control over you, trying to trust you.”

His voice is much softer now, and something changes in my heart when I hear it. It still doesn’t quell my anger, but he really does sound worried about me.

“For some reason—perhaps it’s the proximity of the salt water—your scent becomes irresistible in tight, enclosed spaces. And it isn’t just to me. Your scent is sweet and strong, and it’s awfully tempting. I can smell you in the hallway, even outside my quarters.”

“Why?” I ask, sullenly. “I can’t be in heat again, can I?”

“No, I’m sure that’s not it. I wonder if it has something to do with the child.”

“What child?”

“The pregnancy. The female carrying your child. Perhaps your hormones fluctuate as well. There isn’t much known about Siren children.”

“I’m glad you saved her,” I say quietly. “Please, treat her well.”

“She will be treated very well,” Rai assures me. “Perhaps that is what explains this current outburst. However, I’m upset by your behavior. You should know better than to wander off without telling me.”

“But I was coming to find you—”

I feel a hand stroking my tail softly.

“I don’t care _what_ you were doing. You are my slave, and you are not permitted to wander about freely unless I give you permission.”

“Your slave?” I echo.

His other hand wanders to my groin, palming me roughly. And damn it, with him whispering in my ear, showing concern and worry, and using that commanding voice and his soft voice, in turn, I’m already half hard. _Fuck_!

“I’m sure you remember our agreement when we first met,” Rai murmurs.

“It wasn’t an agreement!” I protest. And it wasn’t. It was more like a threat. 

“Konoe, calm yourself and keep your voice quiet until I give you a reason to scream.” I don’t care for _that_ threat even one little bit. “Strip.” He pushes me off his lap suddenly.

“Wh-what?” I look up at his face, shocked.

“I think I know what your problem is. So _strip_.”

“N-no. I don’t want to,” I say, suddenly feeling shy. I avoid his direct gaze, which I notice is no longer angry—it’s become rather heated. However, I do not want to comply. I’m still feeling rebellious. 

“Konoe, take off your clothes, now,” Rai commands, using a husky, quiet tone.

Irritated, I pull off my boots, dropping them carelessly on the floor. I also strip off what’s left of my blouse and throw it across the room. Finally, I slither out of my pants, leaving them in a pool on the floor. The antsy feeling in my body compels me to continue, so I have to keep going, apparently. So I slide my underwear off my hips and throw them on the floor across the room. They land on the captain’s table.

“That is some seriously bratty behavior,” Rai remarks, a slight smirk on his face. “However, it appears I was correct in my assumption.”

I glance up at his face, only to find  _he_ isn’t looking at mine. His eye is trained on my body, specifically around my hips. I’m mortified. He is staring at my erection. 

“Konoe, turn around, bend over, and place your hands on the bed. Do not move from that position.” His voice is filled with heat and anticipation, and I’m completely humiliated, but heat rushes through my body when I hear that command. However, even my humiliation does not allow me to disobey. I feel my face flushing and heat rising to my ears, and I place both hands on the bed, bending over as he commanded. I can hear him rise from his chair and walk toward me. 

He gently pushes my hips further from the bed, making my ass stick out a little farther. His hand slips between my thighs and parts my legs. As much as I hate to admit it, his touch is gentle, almost tender, and another shiver rushes through my body. My tail fluffs up in anticipation. He runs both hands through the fur and hums appreciatively. I lower my face even more. Gods, this is embarrassing! I don't know what's worse: being in this position or my response to being in this position!

A spanking? A belting? Is _this_ his solution to everything?

“Did you enjoy being touched by the quartermaster so much?” Rai asks, running his hands over my ass and the base of my tail. “It sure looks like it.”

Jealousy? Is that what I hear in his voice? When his hands touch my sit spot, I can’t help shivering just a little bit.

“N-no,” I stammer, arching my back and trying to pull my legs together but being compelled to stay in position. I’m fighting with my own body right now—trying to move from where I am, but I cannot. “I wanted _you_. I was looking for _you_.”

“And why were you searching for me?” His voice is much softer now, all traces of anger have vanished.

“Well, first—I missed you. I thought you might like it if I surprised you. Then—when I saw you’d rescued the female—and that she is carrying a baby—I was shocked—and I-I… I wanted to thank you.”

“Did you, now?” His hands continue caressing me, slowly and carefully—my ass, my thighs, the base of my tail, and he even captures the tip of my tail, which is lashing back and forth. I feel a soft, wet touch there—his tongue—and I mewl in satisfaction. “What am I going to do with you? Is there no cure for your lack of common sense?”

A bolt of anger rushes through me and my body stiffens suddenly.

“I can’t tell a difference in my scent!” I protest loudly. “You could have _mentioned_ something!”

“Calm down, Konoe,” Rai says, licking my tail again, making me relax in an instant. It irritates me that I have to calm down, and also that his touch heats me up as much as it does. Shivers course down the length of my tail into my shoulders. “Perhaps I should have. Perhaps this is my fault. Perhaps I should have locked you in, or restrained you, before I left this morning.” 

He is standing behind me now, and he runs both his hands down my sides, tracing my waistline, following the line of my hips, letting his fingers follow the line of my hipbone, tracing them, spreading his hands out on the surface of my ass. I feel a slight tingling sensation when he drops them a little lower to the place where my thighs meet, and I try to pull my legs together again, and I can’t.

“This part of you—it’s such a beautiful curve—and you’re so sensitive here,” Rai says—and his voice is low, almost ragged.

My dick swells, and thick transparent drops are already dripping onto the floor. 

One of his hands moves up toward the base of my tail, and he wraps his hand around it—I can feel every one of his fingers, and he gives it a little tug, which makes me arch my back and pulls a strange sound from my mouth. He rubs my fur backward, firmly, almost like he would stroke my cock—and the comparison—the fact that I’m thinking about it, even—is such a turn on that I move onto my tiptoes and push back into his hand. Strange lewd moans leak out of my mouth.

“Your scent is even stronger now,” Rai says, still low and heated. “Perhaps I’ve not been taking care of you like I should. Your body seems to be hungrier than usual.”

I haven’t noticed that his other hand has left my body—not until it returns—in a sudden, open-palmed smack, right against my sit spot, which is perfectly presented while he stimulates my tail so pleasantly.

The shock of being spanked—the loud sound—makes my ears twitch—and my fur fluffs out in surprise—but right when his hand makes contact with my skin, he opens his palm and rubs the area he’s smacked firmly, which confuses the pain. He also wiggles his fingers, which makes me tingle. It feels strangely _good_.

I won’t say that the smack _wasn’t_ painful or hard—because it was, especially on that sensitive part of my body—but because he’s rubbing me right afterward, it distributes the pain, turning into something else entirely.

The noise that comes out of my mouth is something like a cry at first, but it turns into a sigh, and I arch my back, even more, pushing myself back into his hand, eager for his touch.

And he obliges. Another loud smack, distributed in an instant by his hand and then his fingers, which almost tickle. A sound like a whine comes out of my mouth, and I bend my arms slightly, lowering my torso to the bed, changing the angle of my body.

I want _more_. I want him to touch me _more_ , just like this. Maybe _harder_ …

This time, two smacks, without time to breathe in between, and I feel breathless and helpless, vulnerable and at his mercy—and I can think of nothing else but his hands on me. All the while, his left hand continues to stimulate the base of my tail, rubbing firmly, tugging it now and then, straightening out my hips.

Another two smacks—and I realize soon that this slow pace is _not_ enough. My dick is dripping constantly now, and my chest is pressed against the bed.

“Please,” I beg.

“Please what?” he murmurs. “Your polite, submissive attitude is already much better than it was.”

Smack, smack, smack!

It feels like my skin is reaching out for him, reaching out for his touch—it wants more—it wants this—and _I_ want more. My legs are shaking, my knees tremble, and I realize I’m on my tiptoes and wobbling. I lower myself back to the ground, giving myself more stability.

“Please—more— _harder_ ,” I whisper.

“Hou? What’s this?”

I feel a gentle tug on the chain between my nipples—and since I wasn’t expecting it, desire shoots through my body, pooling at my waist, and another strange sound comes out of my mouth.

“You smell so good,” Rai whispers, directly into my ear. He sits down on the bed. “Why don’t you crawl up onto my lap?”

It wasn’t a command—it was a request—which I happily oblige. I scramble up onto his lap—and I know he can feel my erection pressing against his thighs.

He smoothes his hands over my body before getting started, and he licks my ears.

“So pink—so beautiful.” His voice sounds like honey dripping into my ears and it makes my fur stand on end. “Ah, do you like me whispering in your ear? You’ve ruffled your fur again—makes you so pretty.”

I can feel my face blushing. I just want him to touch me.

“Please,” I beg, as his hands glide over my body. They feel slightly cool against my skin.

“Again, please what?”

“Please… more of that?” I ask.

“More of what?” Rai asks, a sexy teasing tone in his voice. Is he going to make me beg for it? “Tell me what you want, and I shall oblige.”  
  
One of his hands wraps around the base my tail again, and he starts stroking it firmly. This time, if he spanks me, my erection is pressing against his legs—and there is something for me to rub against. I know it will feel amazing. But can I ask him? I don't know that I dare.

Suddenly, I feel something soft on my chin—his fingers. He tilts my face back slightly, so I am looking up at him. His face is soft, full of desire and passion. He is amazingly beautiful.

“Konoe, tell me what it is you want, and you shall have it.”

So unfair! It’s a command—I feel it flooding my body—just like the blood rushing to my cheeks and into my ears. I press my lips closed while I look at him, and he smiles at me.

“Even still, you’re embarrassed. This is part of who you are as a Siren. You shouldn’t be embarrassed by anything about yourself. Embrace who you are, little one. You are powerful.”

Eventually, I can no longer fight the command, longer bite my tongue, and the words spill from my lips.

“Please, spank me, just like you were before. _Harder_. More. Please.”

“Yes, sir, my precious Siren,” Rai leans down and kisses my lips—almost chastely—and considering what we are doing here, that feels very strange.

He releases my chin, and my body shudders in anticipation. I think I hear Rai chuckle a little, as he continues to massage my tail, and he smacks my ass again—harder this time—hard enough to actually sting—but the stinging sensation disperses immediately when he moves his fingers across the area he spanked right after.

A keening sound comes out of my mouth, and I arch my back. He tugs my tail and spanks me again—twice—and repeats the rubbing sensation, and doesn’t give me a chance to recover. And I was right: having my body resting on his lap makes it even better, though my precum is soaking his breeches. 

“Oh—” I sigh, unable to process what is happening.

He is spanking me now—one volley after the next—alternating my sit spot with my left and right cheeks, and even my upper thighs, just below my sit spot, still dispersing the pain with his hands and fingers after each smack.

I feel myself coming undone.

“Please—ah— _please_ —ah—pl—ah—please,” my begging is out of control, as Rai continues, and my feet are on tiptoes, his hands occasionally slipping between my thighs. I’m getting extremely worked up—and I’m about to come.

I’m about to come from a  _spanking_.

“R-rai…” I moan. “I can’t—ah—Rai…”

A strange melody comes out of me—and it has an awfully, embarrassing rhythm, due to the smacks being applied to my ass. It sounds different than anything I’ve ever sung before. It’s almost helpless—like I am helpless, out of control, and about to lose myself.

Still, Rai does not let up.

I have no idea how hard he is spanking me, and my ass is certainly getting warm, but it feels so, _so_ good—and no one is even touching my dick. 

Even so—

The tip of my tail is suddenly grabbed and I am surrounded by a wet warmth. It’s immersed in Rai’s mouth. He is purring, too—I couldn’t hear him, because I’ve been so loud myself. My body stiffens and I release, my pleasure finally spilling over.

My vision goes white before my eyes, and I can still hear my song—helpless and vulnerable—and Rai keeps up the spanking. My climax comes in spurts, in the same tempo as the smacks—and it feels so good. Pleasure courses through my body and I hear a moan—it must be me—and I’m sure I’ve just come all over his uniform.

However, I can’t be bothered with that right now. Now, I feel his cool hands, stroking me softly, running over my ass, my tail, my thighs, my lower back, and I’m taking deep relaxing breaths.

He picks me up and rolls me into the bed.

“Feel better, little one?” Rai asks quietly, also into my ear. He licks me soundly as well. It makes me shiver. “I’d forgotten that the ocean brings out the Siren in you. I don’t hate it. I’ll just be more mindful from now on.”

I feel a warm wet towel cleaning me off—but I can hardly move. I watch him as he cleans me up, my eyes heavy. He tucks my body in snugly, surrounding me with blankets. And then, as he changes his breeches, I watch—because he is facing away from me when he slips them off. Gods, what a gorgeous ass. And what the hell? He’s not wearing underwear under those? 

Once he slips them off his hips, he turns to look at me over his shoulder, his silver hair shining down his back nearly to his hips, his fluffy white tail swaying lightly. He knows I’m watching him—in fact, I think he might be putting on somewhat of a show.

He gives me a wink.

“Like what you see?”

“I’m just surprised. Were you running late this morning?”

Rai looks at me, a questioning expression on his face.

“No. It’s _my_ ship. The captain can’t be late. Why do you ask?”

“Well, since it seems like you got dressed in a hurry this morning. It seems you forgot an essential piece of clothing,” I mumble.

Rai smirks but doesn’t say anything.

I watch him get dressed, and he doesn't put on underwear. He simply slips into his breeches.

“What are you doing?” I ask. 

“Ah, well—sometimes it just feels nice. The open ocean air and all that,” Rai says, smiling over his shoulder. He pulls on his boots and walks over to the bed. “Will you stay in this room, or would you like me to lock the door?”

I look away sadly.

“Konoe.” When he says my name, my fur fluffs out all at the same time. “Gods, you're _adorable_.” He chuckles softly, running his hand through my ears. “I’ll take you out on deck this evening. I just worry about you. Please, let me do what I can to protect you.” 

“Lock it,” I say.

He kisses me between my ears, then he kisses both of my cheeks, my nose, my chin, my eyelids, and my lips.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers. “Konoe, sleep well.”

What the hell? Another command? But I yawn and drift off to sleep, and I sleep very, very soundly.


	5. Broken Spirit - Konoe x Bandit cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Broken Spirit, one of my very first attempts at fanfics.
> 
> Konoe didn’t escape those first bandits in the forest. They caught him and sold him to a strange place, where he now finds himself. Also, I’m not sure that Konoe is (literally) cursed in this fiction.
> 
> Characters are not mine. They are from Lamento: Beyond the Void by Nitro+Chiral. BUT they may not act like they do in the game. I think some of them are going to be pretty mean in this fiction. So if you don’t like that kind of thing, (make sure you read my tags!! I didn’t just put them in for shits and giggles) maybe skip this piece.
> 
> There is a serious punishment in this chapter. Caning on the hands, feet, tail, and butt.

It’s cold.

Wrapping his tail around his naked body, Konoe doesn’t know how long he’s been in this place. It’s a tiny cramped cage, bars on all four sides and the top, not tall enough for him to stand up. If he tries to stand, he can only crouch. When he first arrived, he tried to crouch a little every day to try to get his muscles working, but he has since given up. His muscles have atrophied to the point where he can barely move anymore.

There’s a small basin for him to relieve himself, but it’s rarely used. When little is ingested, little is expelled. _That must be done on purpose to keep the smell under control. Possibly for cost_ , Konoe thinks to himself.

 _They must not want me for food. If they wanted me for food, wouldn’t they feed me to fatten me up? Who would enjoy eating a scrawny cat, even if I_ am _young?_ He had just reached his twentieth year, but his mind is hazy, so he can't be sure of the date.

Konoe _knows_  his mind is not right. There are other cats in cages just like his—about a dozen cats, all young males in similar condition. All they do is sleep. They are being drugged from the food and water. When Konoe first arrived, he declined all nutrition, after realizing they were drugged. However, the consequences were severe.

A large cat, with a gray tail and ears, a nasty scar on his face, nearly twice his size, stopped in front of his cage when he noticed Konoe’s food and water were untouched.

“You are refusing to eat?” his loud voice boomed.

“Not hungry, not thirsty,” Konoe replied quietly.

“You will suffer the consequences when you do not follow instructions. You will be receiving minimal nutrition while you are housed here. Eat what we provide. When you disobey orders, we will make an example out of you.” The warning was threatening, but Konoe stood his ground. What did he have to lose, after all?

The large cat opened Konoe’s cage and pulled him out by the scruff of his neck, ignoring his struggles. Instead, he addressed the other cats, watching nervously from their cages.

“Young ones, pay attention. _This_ is what happens when you disobey an order here.”

Fear and regret overtook Konoe, causing sweat to break out all over his body.

The larger cat started with humiliation. He ripped off Konoe’s shirt, carelessly shredding it to pieces. His sash and apron fell to the ground. Stripping off Konoe’s pants and underwear came next, pulling off his boots in the process.

“Disobedient cats do _not_ have the privilege of wearing clothes at this establishment. It will be getting colder, and unfortunately for this cat, he will find himself chilly this evening.”

Konoe was mortified, turning a bright shade of pink, flushing all over. He brought his tail to the front of his body for modesty’s sake, but it was useless.

“Ok, ok,” he cried, “I’m sorry, I’ll eat! Just let me go!”

“Oh, the consequences of your misbehavior haven’t even _begun_ yet, little one,” rumbled the giant gray cat. “It’s too late now to be asking for mercy. I have no doubt you will eat, but not until _after_ your punishment.”

Konoe started to shake and tremble uncontrollably—he was naked, and he felt like a coward, exposed in front of all the other cats.

The large cat produced a thin wooden cane and commanded Konoe to hold out his hands in front of him, palms up. “You’ll receive ten lashes. You will count out loud.”

Konoe cowered before the other cages, his arms held out quivering before him, palms up, waiting for the first stroke. It came down fast, stinging more than he could have ever imagined.

“One,” managed Konoe, through gritted teeth.

Slap—  
“Two,” Konoe winced, the pain spreading to the tips of his fingers.

Slap—  
“Three,” Konoe saw red stripes against the whites of his palms, pain spreading into the tips of his claws, which had been drawn in response to the blows. He didn't think cats had feeling in their claws, but apparently, he was mistaken.

Slap—  
“Four.” The pain had nowhere to go after the tips of his fingers, so it pooled there, feeling heavy. He didn’t think he could make it through this. Not even halfway done, and he was already out of breath.

Slap—  
After a brief pause, he managed the count. “Five,” Now, the pain spread upwards toward his wrists, and tears dripped down his face.

Slap—  
“Six.” He hitched a breath to hold back a sob.

Slap—  
“Seven.” This time, the sob broke through. The pain spread toward his elbows.

“Slap—  
“Eight!” He heaved a real sob with tears this time, as the pain continued upwards to his shoulders.

Slap—  
“Nine!” Nearly unable to keep his hands in place and shaking, each knuckle in his hand on fire.

“Keep those hands still, or I will start over!” The warning was frightening enough to work, and Konoe managed to keep his hands steady for the last blow.

Slap—  
“Ten!” He nearly screamed with relief, tears and sobbing now completely out of his control.

“Turn around and get on your knees. Put your hands on the floor. Come on, move it.”

Still quietly sobbing, and shocked that the punishment wasn’t yet over, Konoe complied as quickly as he could. Tears falling from his amber eyes, he looked at the large cat and begged earnestly. “I’m sorry, I will obey, I will eat now. Please, please forgive me? _Please_.”

“I know you will obey without question when we are finished here. But we are not finished making an example out of you just yet. Turn around and face forward. I want to hear you count out loud.”

Smack—  
Konoe was shocked when he felt the cane come down against the soles of his bare feet. They were completely unprotected, and it burned!

“Ah! One!”

Smack—  
“Two—ugh.” Tears were already falling, and he tried to keep his feet from hiding beneath his body.

“If you move those feet, I will start over,” warned the large cat.

Konoe could see the other captive cats shifting uncomfortably in their cages, but there was nothing they could do.

Smack—  
“Ah—three!” Konoe almost screamed. Pain from the bottom of his feet spread into to his toes, which curled up in defense.

Smack—  
“Four!” Konoe cried out loudly, his sobs filling the otherwise silent room. The burning continued to spread into his ankles. He tried to move his buttocks down over his ankles to keep them in place. But he was afraid that his ass might be caught by mistake.

Smack—  
“Five,” he managed in a slightly quieter voice, though still covered with tears. The pain spread upwards into his shins. The thought ran through his mind as to how pain worked. Do the nerves in his feet really work that way, or is it a hallucination?

Smack—  
“Six,” even more quietly, mixed with the sound of his honest crying. Konoe leaned his body forward, pressing his sore hands against his knees, trying desperately to encourage the pain to stay below them.

Smack—  
“Seven,” Konoe choked out the count. His knees burned now, and he kept his face low to the ground.

Smack—  
“Eight—ah!” Simply aiming for survival, only a small sob mixed in with his counting now. This pain burst through, past his knees up into his thighs. It seemed to branch out into his inner thighs. He shoved his hands in between his legs, as though this might push the pain back down.

Smack—  
“Uh—Nine!” Konoe yelled, unable to keep his voice down.

Smack—  
“Ten!” Konoe sobbed and cried with relief, tears flowing freely, face down on the floor in front of his body.

“Remain in this position, but stretch out your tail,” commanded the large cat.

 _No_ , thought Konoe, _Not my tail. I can’t._ The tail is a Ribika’s weak point, and his was far more sensitive than others.

“P-please, I-I have learned my lesson,” begged Konoe, hating the sound of his sobbing voice. “Please, n-not my t-tail!”

“If I have to make you comply, you’ll get **twice** the punishment,” warned the larger cat. “This is your only chance. Stretch out your tail _now_.”

With a mix between a whine and growl, Konoe obeyed, hearing cringing from the cages behind him. His fur bristled, his fangs bared, his claws drawn. His body shook. He stretched out his tail behind him, laying it out flat on the ground.

“Ah, so yours is already crooked, I see,” chuckled the large cat. “It won’t matter if I break it a little more then. Again, count to ten for me.”

Konoe tried to prepare himself for the first blow, but he couldn’t. He heard a swish and a large _crack._

He screamed in pain and shouted, “one,” over his tears. How was he going to force his tail to stay where it was for the duration of the entire punishment?

Again, swish and crack!

Konoe screamed and yelled, “two,” flattening the rest of his body to the ground as much as possible.

Swish... crack!

“Three!” Konoe saw stars in the corner of his vision, and fresh tears flowed down his cheeks. 

Swish... crack!

“Four!” He could barely feel his feet and hands anymore, as pain shot up his spine. His stomach heaved.

Swish... crack!

“Five!” Not bothering to care about how much he was sobbing in front of the other cats, Konoe simply howled.

Swish... crack!

“Six!” Snot ran down his face, making his voice sound funny. His abused tail lay limply on the ground.

Swish... crack!

“Seven!” That one felt like something actually broke back there, close to the hooked end. He couldn’t imagine having an even more crooked tail, and tears flowed fresh.

Swish... crack!

“Eight!” Getting closer to the end of the punishment, Konoe began to relax into it, though unable to still his cries.

Swish... crack!

“Nine!” Almost there... though that blow was in a fresh spot, causing a new burst of pain to spread up his spine.

Swish... crack!

“Ten!” Konoe completely broke down and pulled his burning tail around his himself, wanting to lick it, and care for it. But it was too hot and too sore even to touch. He felt relief most of all, hoping the ordeal was over. He had completely forgotten he was naked at this point.

“Now, young one, I’m sure you’re sorry, and you’ve had enough. But there’s still one more punishment to go before you can show your true repentance.”

Konoe looked up through his tears, utterly horrified. He couldn't handle anything else. His face showed utter despair.

“Stand here, and put your hands against the wall.”

Konoe obeyed, limping on his sore feet, as it was hard to stand, harder to walk, difficult to touch the wall with his hands, since all his limbs were bruised from the beating.

“No, little one. Back your rear out a bit and spread your legs. You’re going to need the wall to brace yourself. You’ll want to keep your tail out of the way, too.”

The large cat sounded almost sympathetic at this point, but it didn’t matter since he was the one causing all of this pain. He looked out to the caged cats and said, “I hope all of you are watching and learning from this kitten’s experience. I’d hate to have to repeat this process, but I will if necessary.”

Konoe was now in position, and received the first incredibly loud blow to his bare buttocks, right at the sit spot, where his legs and bottom meet, and he gave a loud yelp.

“One,” a resigned sigh falling from his sob-strained voice. The pain was as intense as the beating to his tail, but his voice was nearly gone.

Smack!  
“Two,” an even quieter acknowledgment fell from the small cat’s lips. He was crying in earnest, and he sounded truly hopeless.

Smack!  
“Three.” Shaking with pain after each blow, his voice still managed to count. His legs trembled with terror in anticipation of the next blow. They threatened to give out from under him.

Smack!  
“Four.” The other cats could barely hear his counting through the cries. Pain sparked up and down his legs and ass.

Smack!  
“Five, uh-” A grunt followed the count this time, as the blow hit squarely on his ass. He was shaking uncontrollably now, and he nearly lost his balance.

Smack!  
“Six.” Unrestrained sobbing flowed from his mouth. With this blow, he actually did lose his balance, but he managed to catch himself before he hit the ground. Frightened that the beating would start from the beginning, Konoe jumped back into position and started begging. "Please, _please_. I just lost my balance! Please, forgive me! _Please_!"

Smack!  
“Seven.” His claws scraped the wall in front of him desperately. He was pleased to count the seventh blow, however, since he couldn't have started over under any circumstance!

Smack!  
“Eight. Ah!” A flinch and scream with this blow. Konoe’s hindquarters were covered with bright red stripes and were starting to bruise and blister.

Smack!  
“Nine.” The small cat’s will was definitely broken. His head hung low, his tail drooped to the side, knees shook, tears dripping to the floor.

Smack!  
“Ten,” Konoe collapsed after the last blow in a puddle of tears and sobs.

“Ok, so that’s the lesson for today, young ones. He will now go back to his cell to finish his cold food and drink all of his water,” the large cat announced.

Konoe was a mess. He could not remember being returned to his cell, but he did obediently do what he was told, choking on his tears while doing so. He was even a little thankful for the drugs since he could hardly move after the beating. Even with the drugs, for the next few days, he couldn’t get comfortable—not sitting, not standing, not touching anything. He couldn’t even groom himself effectively.

His rebellion discouraged other cats from stepping out of line, but the other captives lost clothing privileges as the days went on, many after the showers. Those were mostly done with a hose, cold water held up at the cage, leaving the kittens shivering and wet.

_How did I end up here? Oh yes, I let myself be caught by those bandits in the forest. I should have run the other way, I should have fought harder._

Konoe loses himself in thought and lets his mind drift with the drugs. He is just tired and sore and wants rest. He curls his sore tail around himself and drifts off to sleep, wondering what’s in store for him.


	6. Broken Spirit - Verg, etc. x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter from Broken Spirit - in which Verg, who is a demon, is supervising Konoe, the sex slave/companion. 
> 
> Ballroom festivities on the lord of Ransen's estate. Verg uses discipline to encourage cooperative behavior.
> 
> Konoe is the evening’s entertainment, and it doesn’t go well. He tries to submit but ends up losing it when he can’t take anymore. Verg gets upset, thinking Konoe has purposely ruined his plans to seduce Kaltz, so he accidentally overdoses him on aphrodisiacs, trying to get him to submit.
> 
> Warnings: non-con public nudity, spanking, paddling, bondage, groping, toy play, aphrodisiac administration, etc.

“You’re going to stay right here, and you won’t have to move a muscle.” Verg is speaking to me in a calm, husky voice, but I think he’s thinking of the Devil of Grief while talking to me. I can’t concentrate with that damned toy vibrating and stopping like this—my dick painfully hard and dripping, my skin covered in sweat, my breaths panting.

 _It’s a good thing I don’t have to do anything_ , I think,  _since I’m unable to_. I was terrified Verg might be angry when he grabbed my arm—he hasn’t touched me so violently before. It really frightened me. I furtively steal a glance at his face, trying to gauge his mood and see what he wants from me. I’m a mess of emotion, close to tears. I _just_ want relief—I want rid of this damned toy and I want to come—I can’t stand this prolonged pleasure. It’s been hours now, it’s pure _torture_!

He’s brought me to a raised platform with a table on it. I’m backed against it, so I can’t see what it’s for, but I’m terrified someone is going to lay me on that table, cover me in food, and lick it off of me. I can’t even _imagine_. Verg’s face looks somewhat more humane than it has earlier in the day—my guess is he’s thinking of Kaltz at this very moment—so I take my chance.

“ _Please_ , Verg.” My voice is small, quiet, careful, pleading with everything I’ve got. “ _Please_ —isn’t it enough? Won’t you _please_ remove this... thing? It’s... _painful_. It’s been in since this afternoon. _Please_. I just can’t take it anymore.” I hate the sound of desperation in my voice. I never thought I’d be begging like this—where is my pride?

He looks at my face, grabbing my chin with one hand, and suddenly takes my mouth with his own. When he does, I can feel the vibrations speeding up and getting stronger. _How the hell is he doing that?_ I can’t suppress the pleasured moan leaking from my mouth into his. His body presses into mine, and I feel his _terrifyingly_ large erection press against my torso—he’s so much taller than me, larger in both size and stature—a bolt of fear shoots through me in a shudder. _What is going to happen to me? Is he going to fuck me to death?_ _Gods, where is Rai?? Does he know about any of this?_

His tongue strokes along the top of mine several times, and I try to relax, trying not to choke. He touches my fangs with his tongue as well, running it along my top and bottom teeth, and I just submit, trying to keep quiet and failing. When Verg’s abnormally long tongue _finally_ finishes exploring my mouth, he pulls away, and I hear cheers from the audience gathered around us. I’m _utterly_ ashamed, but my shame strangely starts slipping away—it feels like Verg has done something to me— _maybe with that kiss?_ I questioningly look at his face, and he smiles down at me, stroking my ears in the way Rai does— _Stop doing that, please!_ —but I lean into the touch longingly, instead of backing away, unable to take my eyes off him.

“ _You_ are the entertainment, little one,” he explains. “Even with my assistance, you seem to be having trouble submitting. I understand.” Turning to the growing crowd, he uses a loud voice to address the crowd. “Folks, our special guest tonight, our beautiful  _golden boy_ , is Konoe. He’s the famed companion who broke all sales records. Fortunately for us, his owner is out of town and has loaned him to us for the week. And it’s this young one’s first heat! You all could smell him when he came in, couldn’t you?”

Verg grabs my chain, forcefully turning me around, bending me over the table with a frightfully practiced motion. _I do not need to think about that._ He pulls my arms out to the sides, attaching each wrist cuff to one side of the table, so my arms are spread out. I’m unable to move my upper body, except for my head. He secures my ankle cuffs in the same way to the legs of the table, spreading them apart as well. This is a _humiliating_ position—my ass exposed to half the room, while the other half sees my face since Verg has pulled my hair, lifting my head off the table.

He presses the button on the remote, and I experience that _amazing_ relief again—and I accidentally let out a loud sigh, dropping my head back down to the table with a loud thump.

Verg is talking to the cats in the room, but my ears are ringing—they are full of blood and probably so red they are nearly purple. I can’t understand a word. I feel a lump in the back of my throat, and my eyes sting. I simply rest my head on the table, my eyes facing the wall, so I don’t have to look at the cats admiring my humiliation. I try to swallow, forcing that lump back down, so those tears won’t escape.

 _This is worse than the auction,_ I think. _Would I ever enjoy watching someone suffer this kind of humiliation? I can’t imagine I would._

Suddenly, I realize Verg is addressing me in an agitated tone. “Pipsqueak!”

He grabs my hair and pulls— _damn, it hurts!_ —but I still have no idea what he just asked me to do. _I thought I wouldn’t have to do anything—and in this position, what can I do?_  The fur on my tail is fluffed out and my tail is drooping lifelessly.

He turns my head roughly, so my eyes face the crowd. I’m stunned—it seems that every cat in the room is looking at me now. _Oh—he wants me to face the crowd._ I suddenly recognize someone. In the front row, I see Verg’s assistant Max in a rather risqué outfit—though not as revealing as mine—he is provided a top _and_ a bottom, as well as shoes—next to a well-dressed portly cat wearing a mask. Max is wearing a collar without a chain, and I notice he has a pierced ear, with a simple silver hoop. _Could he be a companion cat as well? If so... why did he mistreat me like that?_ The tears in my eyes burn precariously.

I start understanding some of Verg’s words:

“... Do I have any volunteers?”

 _Oh, gods—what did he say? A volunteer? Volunteer for what?_ Fear strikes my heart.

I hear a commotion below the platform, footsteps shuffling behind me. My ears ring loudly, and even though I’m trying to pay attention to what’s going on around me, I’m feeling really weird, the edges of my eyesight going blurry and gray, my lips tingling and numb, a nauseating feeling coming over me. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

I glance behind me, and I see a medium-sized cat with brown ears and hair in the weirdest hairstyle I have ever seen: it’s in two long, spiral curls at either side of his head, styled perfectly like coiled snakes. His eyebrows are tweezed into thin lines, and he has a matching mustache, also shaved into a thin line. There is something oddly slimy and reptilian about this cat, and he gives me the chills when his brown eyes pass over my face to examine my body.

Embarrassed, I drop my gaze and rest my head against the table again. _I don’t want him looking at me._ _In this humiliating position, I am helpless. I can’t move, I can’t fight back, I can’t escape. I can’t do anything._ My ears aren’t hearing correctly, and my vision isn’t clear, but at the same time, the claws on my hands are drawing slowly, subtly, as if my body knows I need to be on the defensive. Sweat drips from my chest, but the room is chilly against my hot skin. My body aches—and I don’t understand why. _Why would Rai leave me here? Did he know this would happen? Did I displease him somehow? Is this all the result of me not letting him clean my wounds?_

My mind skips back to last night— _it seems so long ago_ —and my body suddenly remembers the feel of his soft silver hair—and a delightful feeling courses through me. It feels even better than Verg’s stupid toy. With my eyes closed, I can see Rai, holding my leg against my body, and his soft smile, _it’s almost devious,_ while he’s licking the brand. My chest hurts thinking of that icy blue eye, focusing on my face, watching my expression. _He wasn’t angry with me—I_ know _he wasn’t. He couldn’t have been. He was tender with me—because afterwards—afterwards, he...._

My thoughts are interrupted by Verg’s voice, who is giving the slimy volunteer cat instructions, but I can’t understand the words. All I can do is wait—until suddenly, I feel the toy click on again. My entire body gives a shudder—from head to toe—and my back arches suddenly, making me stick out my ass even farther and swish my drooping tail in exhausted ecstasy.

I can’t help letting out another cry at the sensation—it’s a horribly desperate sound—in response to the stimulus. _I can’t do this anymore—when will it be enough?_ I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears that have been threatening to fall—I don’t want to cry in front of all these people—but I can’t help it at this point. I’m just so exhausted—and I hear a sob tearing from my throat. I successfully stop the next one, though.

“Your cries are beautiful, little one,” I hear a voice I don’t recognize. “Let’s hear you cry some more.” I also can hear the muffled sound of the crowd in the room making some noise at that.

I suddenly feel something hit my ass—hard. It’s not a hand, or a cane, or a hairbrush, or Verg’s riding crop. It feels wider and firmer, and it covers much more area than the brush, cane, or riding crop did. And it’s so _loud_ —the slapping sound startles me, making my ears twitch, bristles my tail, and makes me draw my claws fully, digging into the table. And then, all at once, the searing pain of the blow hits me—it starts at my ass, and then runs down my legs and even up into my tail. _What the hell is that?_ The blow hits my body so hard it knocks me up against the table. My hip bones are going to be bruised.

I timidly look behind me—my ears must be lowered now, I’m sure—but I can’t protect myself. There’s _nothing_ I can do to defend myself. _I feel so helpless._ And I see that reptilian cat holding a large paddle in both hands, wearing a lustful leer on his face. _What the hell? He **wants** to see me in pain? What kind of party **is** this?_

I realize that after I was hit, I failed to make a noise—I was so surprised, I got the wind knocked out of me. A breathy sound came out, but no cry or yell. The volunteer cat looks disappointed, and says to me, “I want to see you cry. I want to see tears.”

 _What the hell? I don’t understand._ I look around for Verg, who is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. He is actually glancing between me, and a specific spot in the crowd. When I follow his gaze, it’s where the Devil of Grief is standing. _Is Kaltz okay with this? He touched me in such a painfully kind way—and his words were so gentle when he saw the marks on me earlier. I can’t believe he’d want to see this—did I just misunderstand?_

Anger and rage pool in my stomach, along with nausea—and that annoying desire that makes my legs shake. I want to scream at Verg and that damned snake cat who is beating me—I am tempted to yell—but I am afraid that will make this worse. _What the hell did I ever do to him? I don’t know what to do. How can I get out of this?_

While I’m desperately trying to think, another blow comes down, just as hard as the first—and it burns like nothing I’ve felt before. I thought the caning was painful—but this… _I can’t do this._ A scream tears from of my mouth, and the reptilian cat give a hearty chuckle. His husky voice says, “Oh, yes! That’s what I want to hear—let’s hear more! And more!”

And another blow comes down, followed by three more in rapid succession. I can’t think—tears flow freely, and sobs and screams rip from my throat. Once I get a chance to breathe—and I do—he is hitting me so hard he has to take a break to recover—I try begging, my voice full of tears.

“Please, I’m _sorry_ ,” I try, “I-i-i’m-m n-not even s-sure w-what I-i d-did. B-but I am s- _sorry_.” I am so desperate that the words are nearly unintelligible. “I-i c-c-can’t d-d-do this! P- _please_ , s-sir. P- _please_. I w-will d-do _anything_.” The tears in my voice are making it hard to understand what I’m saying, especially with my uneven, hitched breathing, plus my head is bowed low against the table.

The crowd seems to _love_ it, though. But the blows keep coming as soon as the slimy volunteer has recovered his strength. Every once in a while, I feel the volunteer’s hand against my ass—as cold as ice—and he’s a cat, I _know_ he’s a cat, not a devil—massaging me, feeling me up, experiencing the fruits of his labor. My ass is swollen and red—and I know it’s probably purple, showing through the gold paint. I can feel him pulling on the g-string strap as well, which makes my dick respond, and dripping, wet and eager—I’m _thoroughly_ disgusted with myself— _why is this making me hard?_ —though I’ve been teased for the past four hours now, and I’m afraid no happy ending is in store for me tonight.

I moan when he touches me, I cry loudly when he paddles me, I plead and beg whenever he takes a break—I do as I’m told, trying to be obedient and submissive. I am absolutely desperate. But what I really want is my owner. _Where is Rai?_ I picture his handsome face—that icy blue eye in my mind. And I feel anger in my very soul. _Why has he left me here? Does he know?_

The beating continues—strokes coming harder and faster, leaving me no time to breathe or collect myself in between. I’m yelling, screaming, sobbing—he wants tears, and he’ll get them! _It hurts!_ When that horrible man with the snakes in his hair takes a break, I remember what Verg had said earlier about tricking Rai to go out of town this week, in order to get his hands on me. I suddenly am overcome with rage and lose control. When the blows start up this time, I brace my body against the table to take them without as much bruising to my hips.

“Verg,” I speak quietly—in between the blows—and it sounds weird, since the air is being pushed out of my lungs as I speak, and cries sneak in between my words. But I know he can hear me. My face is turned to the wall. I _won’t_ look at him. “Does my owner Rai know this is what you were planning?”

Suddenly, the blows stop. I am surprised—I was braced for the next one—I even felt the breeze from the paddle when it suddenly stops before the expected impact. I hear the serpentine cat from behind me. “Did you say ‘ _Rai_ ’? Is your owner _Rai_? The silver-haired bounty hunter?”

I consider looking up to meet his gaze, but I can’t find the strength to lift my face at this point. Instead, I nod my head, my breath still hitching from sobs. _Even after the blows have stopped, my ass is still burning!_

“Eh, hm. Verg, I think I’m about _finished_ here.” His voice sounds strange. I feel his hand on my ass, petting me in a comforting way. “Verg, do you think you might be able to do something so this companion won’t remember my face, please? I’d hate to get on Rai’s _bad_ side, you know. I didn’t realize he was _Rai’s_ companion. I wouldn’t have been _quite_ so enthusiastic if I’d known.”

The onlooking crowd shifts nervously as well. Verg looks at me with irritation.

“What the _fuck_? He put Konoe in our care this week. There’s no cause for concern. He’ll be so submissive by the time his owner returns, I’m sure Rai will allow him to return anytime! Plus, little Pipsqueak is in _heat_! Of course, I’ll take care of it so he won’t remember any of you.”

Verg’s voice is angry now, and he approaches me. I am frightened, but _I can’t take any more_ of the paddle. Seeing this monstrous devil so close to me, however, is _incredibly_ terrifying. Having him tower over me like this makes me cringe, as much as I am able to, anyway, since I can’t move. I lower my face back to the table, avoiding his gaze.

He whispers into my ear again, and his voice isn’t kind. “Don’t you _remember_ our little _discussion_ earlier this afternoon, about your _role_?” I feel his cold hand on my ass, and he’s gently toying with the strap of my thong. I don’t know if it’s a pleasant feeling or if it’s scaring me even more. “Your job is to _take_ orders, not _give_ them, _darling_. I don’t want you to do anything to interfere with my plans for tonight. I’ve waited _years_ for this—the time is _finally_ right. _I just know it.”_

I feel his cold hand against me again, and this time, he forces a finger inside me. I try squirming away, but I can’t escape. Gods _, does he have to do this in front of all these people?!_  I can’t prevent a shocked gasp from escaping. It doesn’t feel like there’s enough room for both his finger and that toy, and I find myself straining against it. But a strange pleasure starts rising from the area now—I think he’s done that thing he did before—depositing additional aphrodisiac—it feels like there’s something else gooey inside me. And he doesn’t immediately withdraw his finger.

While part of me wishes he would, there’s a strange _hot_ feeling in my body that isn’t so anxious. In fact, I find myself responding to his internal caresses—and I think those sweet sighs I’m hearing are coming from _my_ mouth. The rest of his hand fondles the outside of my ass. I try to pull my legs closed to resist the touch, but I can’t—I only struggle against the restraints. His large hand is stroking the area just in front of my asshole, and it’s _so_ sensitive right now that a shudder runs through my entire body when he gives it a tiny stroke. I feel his thumb above my ass—and it feels like he’s surrounding me. It’s a delightful but suffocating feeling. But then, when his hand moves gently, with small practiced movements like he knows what he’s doing, _it feels so good_ —at least my exhausted body feels that way. Another long moan comes out of my mouth, high pitched, full of desire, longing, and need—I’m so embarrassed! I thought I was tired of feeling sexual pleasure at this point. I still just want to come and be finished.

When that thought comes over me, more tears form and start to fall fresh. _I just can’t do this. I don’t want to be on display like this, I don’t know why my body is reacting like this—it feels like everything around me—every sound, every sight, every smell, every sensation— is sexual and arousing. I can’t stand it anymore. I don’t think I can get any harder, and I can’t touch myself._ I’m pressing my body—my dick—against the hard edge of the table—and while it’s painful, the touch also feels good, like it’s finally getting some attention. The leering from the audience is both humiliating and arousing, and I’m confused. What am I doing?

I hear Verg’s whispering voice behind me once more. “Don’t you know that your owner left you here for _proper training_?”

A surprised gasp leaves my mouth.

“Oh yes. He wants a malleable, _submissive_ companion when he returns, one who knows his _place_. One who knows his _job_. One who willingly and immediately _obeys_ him. One who knows how to _please_ him.”

I don’t know what to think anymore. In fact, thinking is becoming difficult, probably because that aphrodisiac is taking effect. I am really afraid. I try opening my mouth.

“I’m sorry.” I really didn’t know I was such a failure, tears coming for more than just my own suffering, tears falling for guilt, for shame, for fear that it's my own fault for being left here. “I didn’t know I was such a problem.”

“I know he treated you well—it’s recommended that owners treat their companions kindly during their first months in order to build trust. Discipline comes later—or in some cases, from outside sources, like us _experts_.”  
  
I lower my head down to the table in shame, not knowing what I should do. Though I feel the full effect of the aphrodisiac now, I can see my claws have not retracted. AM I here because I haven’t learned to submit? Even under heavy drugs, my body refuses to submit. I can’t retract my claws myself, even when I try—they are dug firmly into the table, frozen in fear.

“Don’t you want to know how you can make this _better_?”

I remain silent, trying not to move. I can still feel Verg’s fingers inside of me, his hand moving around pleasantly, in and around my ass, along with that damned toy. These feelings border on the edge of torture at this point. I press my lips together, afraid to make a sound. I am so ashamed, and I feel the heat in my face and ears.

“You could be _the best_ companion Rai could ever hope to have—worth _every penny_ he paid for, in fact.” _There’s that reference to money again!_ At its mention, I can’t help glaring over my shoulder at Verg. _Why does he keep bringing that up? Was I really that expensive? Does he have to bring it up in front of all these people?_

“Oh, now, _that’s_ not a very submissive expression, darling.” The hand in my ass straightens suddenly, and lifts my body off the table, making my feet leave the ground. _It hurts_ , the unexpected motion makes me cry out. At the same time, Verg grabs the base of my tail, and pulls it toward him, pulling my body toward him as well, impaling me further on his finger—which causes me even more pain—at least I think it’s painful. It’s bordering on pleasure, which disgusts me, for some reason. _I can’t stand this!_ I let out a groan, and I want him to let go.

“ _Let go_ of me!” I finally find my voice. “Isn’t this _enough_? _Please_ , just let me go! Just _fuck me_ already, or let me go! I can’t keep this up!”

I realize my mistake too late—I probably _could_ have been contrary to Verg in the privacy of my own chamber, but I should never have dared in front of a crowd of onlookers— _not_ when Verg was trying to impress someone. Sure enough, I watch his face look out to the crowd—he’s meeting the gaze of the black and blue devil, Kaltz, who is watching this display before he returns to deal with me.

Verg does several things in fast succession. First, he removes his hand from my ass, taking the toy with it. It sounds like he switches it off once it’s out of my body—I feel a strange sense of loss as well as relief when is it is finally gone—it had truly started to feel like part of me. Second, he releases my ankle cuffs from the restraints. My legs immediately close—and it feels amazing to be able to press my thighs together—it feels like it’s been hours, but it can’t have been that long. Next, he releases my wrists from the restraints, and my arms are finally able to fall at my side.

But before I can relish in this wonderful sensation of freedom, he stands me up, still facing the table, and swiftly yanks off my only item of clothing, the g-string, leaving me naked, in gold paint with black leather cuffs at my wrists, ankles, and neck. I realize I’m now standing on a platform _on display_ in front of 100 cats, _completely_ naked, with _the most_ persistent hard-on I have ever had in my life. He pulls me away from the table and turns me around, and my dick is dripping—and I hear cheers from the audience— _it’s a nightmare!_ I hear a hopeless, despairing sigh, and realize it must have been me.

I can’t look at the audience, so I drop my eyes to the floor, and I see that fluid is not just dripping from my dick but also from in between my legs—it must be whatever it was that Verg put inside me earlier. My body is glistening and sparkling with sweat—the gold paint emphasizes the liquids in a way that looks _incredibly_ lewd. It doesn’t look like _at all_ like my body. I’m absolutely _mortified_ , covered in shame—my body has been _mercilessly_ toyed with since this morning, and I can’t help its response, but I can’t help feeling ashamed, either.

Tears spill down my cheeks and drip down my neck and chest. They leave a glistening trail down my body as I stand before the crowd, and I remind myself that _this moment will pas_ s. I try not to sob, keeping my mouth closed.

Verg is standing behind me, making sure I don’t try to cover myself or turn around. He runs his hands through my hair, stroking my ears, which both annoys and distracts me. I think he is talking to the audience again, but I can’t really hear him. He calls up another person—this time, it’s the well-dressed, portly masked man who has been standing next to Max. Seeing another volunteer makes me cringe, and I try to escape Verg’s hold. He keeps me in place with a hard slap to my sore ass, which makes me cry out when I resist.

I can’t do this. _I just can’t do this anymore._

The portly man comes closer, and lowers his face to my chest—I flinch, and I try to push him away from me— _I’m not at all attracted to this guy, plus isn’t he here with Max? I may be feeling desperate to come at this point, but I’m not that desperate. I do not want to be fucked in front of all these people!_ But when I reach up to defend myself, Verg grabs my arms and pins them behind my back—and he isn’t gentle about it, either. My shoulders make a cracking sound when he does this, and I cry out in response.

 _This_ isn’t _normal behavior—I don’t care if this sort of thing_ is _regulated—I don’t want_ any _part._ When I see that cat’s tongue loll out of his mouth to lick my nipple, l feel bile rising to the back of my throat. _Are they going to fuck me here, in front of all these people? What I am to them?_ Aphrodisiac or no, I’m utterly disgusted. Watching his wet tongue flick in and out of his mouth, it’s not attractive. It feels gross, too—slimy and wet— _and shouldn’t Verg’s aphrodisiac be working at this point?_

I wonder what would happen if I threw up on this guy. I hear Verg say something, but again, my hearing is fuzzy, and I only make out the words, “my lord,” in the sentence. _Wait—is this guy the Lord of Ransen? Oh my gods, what if I vomit on him in front of everyone? Maybe I should give him some sort of warning._

“Verg—“ My voice sounds very weak and quiet, and I’ve stopped struggling. My stomach is flopping over inside my gut. My mouth is filling up with saliva, and I try to swallow delicately, fearing any sudden movement might upset my stomach further. “My lord? _Please_ , wait. Verg, I don’t feel well.”

I notice my claws have _finally_ retracted, and the strength has left my body—so much that I’m leaning my weight against Verg. The edge of my eyesight is graying out, and my field of vision has narrowed, as though I’m looking through a small tunnel. There’s a loud whooshing sound in my ears, and I feel panicked. Sweat prickles all over my body, but instead of the hot sweat I’d been experiencing earlier, this is cold and clammy.

I don’t hear Verg’s response, but his grip on my arms behind me loosens. I’m afraid he didn’t hear or understand my warning, and I fear what he will do to me if I accidentally embarrass the Lord of Ransen in his own home, guest companion or no.

I repeat myself, being careful of my tone. “Verg—I don’t feel well. I think I’m going to be sick.”

I feel a hand on my cheek— _it’s very cold_ —the fingers are too slender to be Verg’s—and much colder. _Ah, they feel so good!_ It’s such a relief, in fact, I let out a relieved sigh. I see a dark shadow—black and violet— _is it Kaltz? When did he get up here?_ And then I hear his usually soft voice, speaking quite sharply.

“Verg! You idiot! I think you’ve overdosed this kitten! How much have you given him?”

Verg mumbles something—his tone is a little ashamed, and I’ve never heard him sound this way, nor have I heard anyone speak to him like Kaltz just spoke to him, either.

“Have you learned _nothing_ in the past two thousand years? Nothing about Ribika or their mating cycles? This kitten is just _too small_ for repeated doses of your aphrodisiac, especially not during his  _first_ heat. Gods, Verg, you can be _such_ an impatient idiot!” Kaltz is angry, but he keeps his voice even and calm. I see he’s removed his coat. I feel him wrapping it around my body. I expect it to be warm, so I resist (the thought of anything else warm touching my body is appalling ( _I don’t even care that I’m naked at this point_ ) and threatens to release the bile in the back of my mouth). To my surprise, it isn’t warm at all. Strangely, it’s ice cold and incredibly soothing—so I settle into it and into his arms when he scoops me up. _He feels like Rai_ , I think drowsily, and I feel even more comfort.

“This little one is finished for the evening.” The Devil of Grief is able to project his voice when he wants to, and he easily attracts the attention of everyone in the room.

I hear someone in the crowd say, “Aww, aren’t you just saying that so you can have him to yourself?”

“Even if I were, would you be able to stop me?” Kaltz hasn’t changed the tone of his voice even a little. “Find another companion for tonight’s festivities. This one has suffered enough.”

With those words, I feel myself carried from the room. I’ve _never_ been so relieved to leave somewhere before! Between his cool temperature and his long, sure strides ( _they feel so familiar_ ), I find myself lulled into an exhausted sleep, the moment we reach the hall. I relax against Kaltz’s cold chest, imagining it’s Rai’s arms carrying me away from this place. It doesn’t even cross my mind to be concerned that it’s a devil carrying me.


	7. Broken Spirit - Sebastian x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. I'd forgotten how much Konoe suffers in this series. Sebastian, the butler (yes, *that* butler) is in this series, too, and he has it out for the companion cat as well.
> 
> Konoe wakes the next morning in his assigned rooms, unbelievably sore from the previous evening's activities. The Lord of Ransen's butler, Sebastian, enters. Chaos ensues.
> 
> Warnings: So, non-con spanking, BDSM/restraint, fear mongering, intimidation, "training," excessive violence and rape is in this chapter. Be forewarned.
> 
> This chapter turned out quite a bit more... sadistic than I was originally planning. I'm not sure if I should apologize for this or what. But be warned. But I've always kinda wanted to see what Konoe x Sebastian Michaelis would look like, and this is what that CF turned out to be.

I wake to the moon of light in that giant burgundy bed in my assigned room. I’m relieved to be alone. When I try to stretch out my limbs, I can hardly move. I’m unbelievably sore.

My legs can scarcely move, first of all. The muscles are weak and shaking. The backs of my thighs are painful, too—the skin is torn up, and the higher my hands reach, the worse shape my skin is in. I can’t even touch my ass it hurts so much. The bruising aside, I’ve been beaten with a cane, a riding crop, a hairbrush, Verg’s palm, and that paddle, and four of those yesterday! It’s no wonder my body hasn’t had a chance to heal.

The hair stands up on the back of my neck, and I shiver, thinking of the surreal experience in the ballroom last night. _I miss Rai._ I wish I could get him a message. The thought of his face brings tears to my eyes, and the door to my room abruptly opens.

It’s Sebastian, the butler. 

“Ah, you’re finally awake,” his accent sounds in the room. He enters like he belongs in here, closing the door behind him. “I thought you might sleep all day.”

He walks to the fireplace and stokes the fire to a reasonable height. 

I notice he isn’t carrying anything with him, strangely. It seems odd, but I don’t really understand what his job entails, either. I wonder if he might be able to get in touch with Rai, and I’m desperate for contact with him, so I ask.

“Interesting question, young one.” His response is direct. “Let me ask, why do you want to know?”

“I was hoping I might get him a message,” I say, keeping my tone light. “I just miss him, and I was hoping to ask him a question or two about why I’m here.”

“Oh?” Sebastian’s lips curve up at the corners slightly. “Do you feel as though you’ve been mistreated during your time with us? Perhaps treated unjustly?”

 _It’s almost as if he’s read my mind_ , I think. It frightens me a little, and I’m not sure how, or if, I should respond. _Is he trying to help?_ I try to get a better read on the cat in front of me by focusing on his face when I notice he’s approached the bed quite closely.

He has pale skin—nearly as pale as Rai’s—and his ears are black and sharply pointed. His red eyes, which are very bright, almost glow, very much like Kaltz’s. In fact, there are a lot of things about this cat that remind me of Kaltz. His face is pleasing to the eye, but his eyes creep me out a little.

Upon second consideration, I decide against trusting him. There’s something not quite right about him. _And where was he last night? Did he know what was going to be done to me? Why didn’t he warn me? I know he’s the lord of Ransen’s butler, but still. He’s a cat just like me. Wouldn’t it just be common courtesy?_

I hear a soft laugh, which makes me look up from where I’m sitting on the bed. I realize he’s suddenly extremely close. _When did he get so close to me?_ I back up a little, but I don’t have anywhere to go since I’m already pressing my body against the wall.

“What are you doing?” I ask nervously, trying not to appear intimidated.

“Your thoughts are such a mess, little kitty, such a jumble.” His voice is low. 

“What?” I’m shocked. _What’s he saying? Is he really reading my thoughts? What the_ hell _is he?_

“I knew there was something special about you. I’ve known that silver cat for a while.... had an eye on him, you could say,” he continues. “You had to be something special to turn his head.”

A hand comes up to my chin and tilts it up towards his face. I don’t want to meet his gaze, so I immediately drop my eyes to the hands in my lap.

“Oy,” Sebastian sounds annoyed, and his claws draw against my chin. “ _Look_ at me.” He tilts my head sharply, forcing me to meet his eye.

When I do, I instantly regret it. There’s a roaring fire behind those red eyes of his. I realize that Sebastian is _definitely_ not a cat. Those eyes are _not_ the eyes of a cat—no  _way_  can they belong to a cat and no _way_ he’s just a butler. Fear roils in the pit of my stomach, and I feel sick.

“You have such defiance in those eyes of yours,” his voice growls lowly. “You make me want to _break_ you.”

His words send a shudder down my spine. _How is this happening? Am I not even safe from the_ butler _of this mansion? In the shelter of my assigned chamber? First thing upon waking? Isn’t there a safe haven in this entire mansion?_ I feel panic rising, and my body starts to shake.

“Why? W-what do you want with me?” _And how can I get out of this?_   “Please, don’t hurt me,” I add that last part quietly.

I bring my eyes up to this purported cat’s gaze in desperation. I have no idea what he has in store for me, but I know that whatever it is, I won’t be able to handle it. Not today, not now.

“ _Please_. I’m begging you. Please don’t hurt me. My body is already is in terrible shape—I can’t take anything else— _please_.”

“What? You expect me to serve you in this house? Like the tea and biscuits I brought yesterday? For nothing? You think that was out of the goodness of my heart? I think you’re forgetting your role as a companion.” Despite his threatening words, his voice remains calm and steady, maintaining its odd musical quality, which frightens me even more.

He tilts my head again, then rips away the blanket covering my body. I realize I’m nude. Well, for all practical purposes, I’m nude. I’m still wearing the leather cuffs around my ankles and wrists, and the collar around my neck, thanks to last night’s activities. My whole body flushes pink in embarrassment with the sudden exposure, beginning with my cheeks, spreading up to my ears, and then down my neck to my chest. I can’t meet his eye.

Having him look at me, though—with the blood rushing through me like this has an unexpected effect. Blood rushing to my lower half, my cock stiffens slightly, _just_ from having his eyes on me. That flusters me even more, which makes the blood flow more strongly, acting as a feedback loop. _What is my body doing? What is the matter with me?_

“So you _enjoy_  being watched? How perfect for a companion.” His voice is so smooth, like silk. 

“N-no—“ I stutter, embarrassed, keeping my eyes lowered. “I _hate_ it—don’t look at me!”

“Would you rather I touch you?” I see his hand reaching out, and I dart away and manage to escape his grasp, rolling off the bed in the process.

“No!” I yell. “Stay away! Get _off_ me!” The fear has taken hold of me now,  panic making me desperate. _Really, though, where am I going to go?_

The moment my feet hit the floor, I lose my balance. I have no power in my legs, due to last night’s excesses. My muscles are sore and aren’t responding. I also haven’t had anything to eat since those biscuits yesterday, so my body is weak from lack of nutrition. I promptly collapse to the floor in a quivering heap.

“Look at the poor kitty,” Sebastian says, voice filled with artificial tenderness, slinking up to my side. “You don’t even have the energy to run from me. Or is it, perhaps—“ He lifts me up into his arms and licks my ear, “that you secretly long for my attention? Your body _yearns_ for me. Look! You’re already like this, and I’ve hardly touched you." I feel his palm pressing against my crotch, but I am determined to resist. "Why don’t you let me help you? We’d _both_ be much more comfortable, and I can help you succeed as a companion.”

His deep voice sounds smooth and confident, and my body still strangely reacts to his ministrations. I cannot understand why.  _Is it something in his voice? Am I still in heat? I want Rai! Why did he leave me here?_

“From what I understand,” his voice has lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, “you’ve grown more than a little attached to your owner, even in a short amount of time. I mean, I agree he is a hottie but is it more than that? Is there such a thing as love at first sight? I wonder.” Hearing amusement in his voice, I _hate_ that he’s making fun of me.

“Sh-shut up! What _are_ you?” I struggle to get away from him. “Are you some kind of d-demon?”

Another small chuckle comes from his chest, and he licks my ear again, which automatically flicks down in response. “Oh, sweet kitty! I’m simply one _hell_ of a butler.”

“Please—put me down— _please_!” The begging and pleading in my voice disgust me.

“I will soon enough.” He brings me over to the chaise-lounge next to the fireplace, where he sets me down. It’s much closer to that fire than I would prefer, but I don’t have a choice as my legs aren’t working. _I may have to do what he wants. I don’t see a way out of this_.

“What do you even _want_ with me? I’ve had enough—didn’t you see what happened yesterday?” I try to remember what Kaltz and Verg said to me last night, about my voice. Didn’t they say it had had some sort of effect on others? I try to use it to persuade Sebastian to leave me alone and let me recover.

“So, I did witness quite a bit of yesterday’s events. For example, the brothel owner beating you with a paddle to his content—or, nearly to his content—until you cleverly brought up the name of your owner to discourage him.”

Sebastian has me trapped on his lap—I’m still naked, and he is running his hands over my body, specifically over my ass, blistered and raw from yesterday's beatings. I wince every time he runs his hands over a particularly sore area. He’s got me facing his chest on my knees, sitting on my ankles. He easily pulls my body up and runs his hands along the back of my thighs. The brand stings terribly, too.

The way he describes the events from yesterday makes me sound so manipulative. It’s true I was desperate to get that cruel beating to stop—but it was horrible, and I didn’t think I deserved it.

“Why do you describe it like that?” I’m confused, and I squirm beneath his creeping fingers, my body still quaking with fear. I really hope he doesn’t want to continue anything like that, but the way he’s talking makes me think he has something similar in mind.

“Well, your master is quite competent at his profession. He could pose a threat to some cats.” Sebastian speaks those words directly into my ear. “There isn’t anything he can do to hurt me, however.”

Those words send a shudder down my spine, and I see my tail quivering out of the corner of my eye.

“What? Does that frighten you?” I hear something like joy in his voice. “You know, he will probably be out of town for at least a full week, perhaps longer. And yesterday was only your very first day. We took it easy on you last night, you know, thanks to the Devil of Grief.”

“E-easy?” My voice is quaking as much as my body is. _But seriously, yesterday was easy?_ “I don’t even understand what I’ve been doing to deserve such harsh treatment in the first place!”

“It’s your attitude, of course.” Sebastian looks at my face directly. “You are full of yourself, you think you have rights, you deserve good treatment. You serve  _yourself_ first. When as a slave, as a companion, you ought to treat your owner as _a god_ , serving him in everything you do, treating his needs first, without heeding your own. If he sees fit to meet your needs, you will be thankful. Otherwise, you go without.”

“I go without,” I repeat. I think of the last time I was together with Rai, how gently he treated me, how he treated me like I was something precious, without even seeing to his own needs. Tears burn my eyes.

“I see you’re starting to understand. Finally. I can teach you how to do this for your owner, so you can be a better companion. Otherwise, he may look for a companion _other than you_ , one who will meet his needs.”

“Another companion?” I’m shocked.

“Of course. A woman would be an excellent choice. Their wills are much more easily broken, at least from my experience. But all this is up to you, dear Konoe.” Sebastian looks at me again. “I think you have it in you to submit, and then you might become the perfect companion for your master. I’m only here to help you.” His voice sounds sincere.

“What do I have to do?” My voice is resigned, feeling dread in the pit of my belly.

“Whatever I wish,” Sebastian states smoothly. “And possibly foresee any other needs that might arise, needs I don’t even know I may have.”

“Whatever you wish,” I repeat quietly.

“Anything and everything.” Sebastian’s voice sounds hypnotic.

“Anything and everything,” I repeat, the dread sinking into my chest.

“And _this_ will be how you keep your master pleased with you.” Sebastian runs his fingers through my hair, touching my ears. My ears flinch from his touch, reflexively flicking away. He sighs loudly.

“ _This_ will serve as our first example, right here. I wish to stroke your soft ears, yet you flinch away as if I were some terrible beast. Why not simply allow me to stroke them? It's not as though I'm trying to hurt you.”

A small noise is released from my throat—it sounds confused and scared, I think. I don't how to comply.

“Try it. Relax your ears, and allow me to touch them.”

I give it my best, lifting my ears away from my head. However, the moment Sebastian touches them, they instantly flatten against my head. They don’t obey my commands, even after repeated attempts. It’s ridiculous.

“Are you trying your best, Konoe?” Sebastian pulls his hand away from my ears and shines those frightening red eyes in my direction.

I _really_ am. I don’t know why my ears won’t obey me, and fear is starting to build in my chest.

“Perhaps you need a little… _incentive_?” With those words, Sebastian changes how he is holding me without warning, flipping me onto my stomach against the chaise, pinning my hands over my head. He isn’t gentle about it either, I feel a burning sensation on my belly from the fabric of the chaise, and I think he may be sitting on me, straddling my back, which knocks a noisy breath out of me.

I hear a clicking sound overhead, and I watch his hands move away from my body, realizing that he has fastened my wrist cuffs to the chaise, restraining me. _What is with this place? Is it designed for torture?_ Another shudder runs through me when I think of all the hidden areas in this house which are designed for use with these restraints. It truly terrifies me.

Because of the way I’m restrained now, my ass is nicely on display, due to the curved shape of the chaise, and how my head is at the foot of the chaise. _Ugh. What is he planning?_ I feel those tears at the corners of my eyes threaten to fall, both from fear and humiliation. I am sure now I won’t be able to take another beating. I’m sure of it. So I do what I can, and start to plead and beg as best as I can, hoping Kaltz and Verg were correct about the sound of my voice.

“Sebastian, sir, _please_ —I am trying to get my ears to stay still—but they just won’t do what I want. _Please_ —I want to please you, I want to obey, but I don’t know how. Perhaps I just need a little more practice? Please, let me try some more? Please, just _please_ don’t hurt me.”

As those pleas start flowing from my mouth, the tears start falling as well. I can feel a sob lurching in my chest, but I desperately hold it back.

“Ah, my darling kitten, I haven’t even done anything to you, yet.” He tries stroking my ear again, and now both are flattened against my head. That’s what my ears do when I am threatened and afraid. _How wouldn’t he understand this himself, if he’s a cat, too?_

My thoughts come to a grinding halt.

 _Wait. Perhaps he really_ isn’t _a cat. Is this why he is obsessed with my ears?_

As soon as I come to this realization, I can feel his hands—both of them—moving to my tail and stroking. It’s already fluffy from his earlier attentions, but this gentle stroking feels good. This, I will allow—but the thought remains in my mind— _Sebastian is not a cat._ And my skin is crawling.

“So, your tail. I’m permitted to stroke your tail.”

“Y-yes,” I manage to stutter. I think to add at the last minute, “You may do _whatever_ you like to me, sir.”

“Oh yes, I know.” His voice sounds suddenly thick. It bothers me that I can’t see him. When I feel his hands exploring the crooked part of my tail, a strange sound comes out of my mouth, and my body suggestively rubs itself against the chaise, all on its own.

“Would you look at that?” He mumbles to himself. “You can feel in the crooked part.” He repeats the motion—brushing fur in the opposite direction—to see if he can elicit the same reaction, and to my dismay, my body moves again, in the same seductive way.

Closer to my ear now, “Is it a _sexual_ feeling? Is that how it feels? Does it feel like that? Is that why you’re humping the chaise so indelicately?”

 _Gods, what is he asking me?_ I am so ashamed and embarrassed—but _he_ is the one touching me. _So why am_ I _the one who is ashamed?_ He _should be the one who feels ashamed!_ I feel myself heating up again, and I hear him laugh softly.

“Hmmpf—pink ears. So sweet. Did you show off these ears at the auction, I wonder? Perhaps that’s what grabbed the white kitty’s attention. It seems this innocent charm might attract him.”

He tries to touch them again, and I instinctively flatten them against my head. I don’t know how Verg touched them, except that he was quick about it, and he had been watching Rai. I think Verg learned to touch me by watching Rai.

I feel a sharp, hard yank against my tail—hard enough to lift my hips up off the chair, exact a popping sound from my spine, and wring a scream of pain from my throat. I’m forced to bring my legs up underneath my body to support myself. Tears are running down my face now, and the shock makes shivers of pain course up and down my spine. I slowly turn my head to glower at the person responsible, and Sebastian does _not_ look pleased.

“I know you were beaten with a hairbrush and a riding crop before the party. Even Max, the Lord’s former favorite companion, had a round with you.” Sebastian is toying with my tail again and seeing him even _touch_ it makes my fur stand on end. “And I saw what Verg did to you—in front of all those guests—his fingers in your ass. The Lord was about to fuck you publicly when that ice devil came to your rescue.”

I feel his hand on my ass now, running over my cheeks smoothly, almost jealously. _My gods, is he drooling?_

“What did they do to you back in their bedroom, those two? That sex devil is obsessed with the depressed one, isn't he? But the devil of depression oozes his own type of sexuality, doesn’t he?”

I don’t answer—I’m not sure if it’s really a question, and I’m stunned at what he knows. I’m also terribly ashamed. He’s making me sound _easy_ —like all of this was my choosing, like I _wanted_ to be used in this way. I feel my face and ears burning.

He smacks my ass, hard, and right on the sit spot. Because of the way I’m sitting, curled up on my knees, it burns terribly, even though he uses only his hand. I can’t help crying out in pain.

“I asked you a question,” he says. “You _won’t_ let me stroke your ears, so the _least_ you can do is answer my questions. This is part of your assignment. Tell me what they did to you.”

A small noise comes from my throat as I try to get it working again, and it turns into another cry as I’m spanked again.

“I will punish you and punish you soundly if you disobey me. So speak.” I feel his hand rubbing against my ass again, gooseflesh rising on my skin.

I clear my throat, lick my lips, and try to swallow my embarrassment. I manage to open my mouth, letting the words spill out as fast as they will come.

“Verg overdosed me on aphrodisiacs, I guess because I am in heat. Kaltz noticed my state and took me out of the room in order to save my life. They bathed me in cold water, rinsed off the paint, treated my wounds, and then they… fucked me.”

That’s as much as I can handle.

“Did they both fuck you?” I can hear his curiosity rising.

“Kind of?” I answer. “I was groggy, and Kaltz used a spell that took away my free will. He told me to imagine that Verg was my owner. And it seemed to work. So in my eyes, it looked like it was Rai was doing those things to me. And then Kaltz also joined in.”

“Oh really? How interesting. Was Verg also under the spell?”

“I believe he was, yes.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“…” _I’m not sure how to answer this._ _If I answer the wrong way, will I offend this monster, and earn further punishment?_

Smack!

Another direct hit on my behind leaves me shaking.

“Do you want another? It can be arranged. I think the question was simple enough.” His tone is very smooth and calm, but it frightens me out of my wits.

“Y-yes. I enjoyed it. I feel guilty about it today, though.” I commit to total honesty.

There is a short silence. “Guilt? What on earth for? Because you enjoyed yourself? That’s ridiculous.”

“No. Because I enjoyed thinking Rai was with me, but he wasn’t with me at all. It was all a lie.”

“But that was all for your benefit—it was a kindness. And yet you couldn’t enjoy it, and felt guilt instead?”

“No, that’s not it. I said I _did_ enjoy it—when I thought I was with Rai, and also when I was with Kaltz. I didn’t feel guilty until _afterward_.”

Another small pause. And then out of nowhere—

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Ouch—ah—ouch!— _please_!” I am crying in earnest, now, tears flowing freely. My ass is so sore from the previous beatings, and my hips, bruised from banging against the table repeatedly during the paddling as well, are now being pushed into my body from these hard blows as well.

“I don’t understand! _Please_! Please stop!”

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Please—ah—won’t you—at least-ah!—Tell me—ouch!—Why?!” I try to ask during the punishment. I am trapped, arms restrained above my head, and how I am posed now, there is no protecting myself.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

The spanking stops all at once, the butler finally resting his hand on my still-burning ass. His hand feels cool to the touch. I don’t know how many times he’s hit me. My breathy sobs are coming slower now, hitching, and I’m trying to calm them. A sense of utter despair floods into my body, into my heart, and into my soul—a dark muddy color—and I _hate_ how it feels. I don’t know if it’s my own feelings of failure, feelings of loneliness, being misunderstood, or discouragement that has completely overwhelmed me, but this opulent chamber around me holds no appeal now. All I feel is sadness, pain, and fear, and I am helpless to make it stop.

“There.” It’s a satisfied sound, coming from the low voice behind me. “These feelings—the ones you are experiencing now— _this_ is what a good, loyal companion must feel in order to serve his master well.”

I feel his hands in my hair, against my ears, which no longer resist his touch. He must have beaten the resistance out of me, quite literally. Fresh tears fall from my eyes, but I hold back the sobs.

“Don’t you appreciate what I have done for you?” His silken voice continues. “You can now submit yourself as a proper companion should. Maybe we should try some more activities before the Lord of Ransen comes to have his way with you.”

“The Lord of Ransen?” Oh no—not that portly fellow who was so rough, who was about to rape me last night, the cat who Kaltz rescued me from. “Have his way wi-“

“Oh, _indeed_. I could make him disappear for the day, however, for the right payment.” Sebastian’s voice sounds clever and full of ideas. “Keeping in mind, of course, that I’m currently in his employ.”

“What _are_ you?” I ask timidly. I’m truly afraid of this Sebastian person behind me. I can’t see him from where I am perched on the chaise—I’m in a degrading position, arms stretched out to their full length in front of me, chest flat against the chaise, ass in the air, resting on top of my feet, my knees folded beneath my body. I can’t move, but my tail swishes back and forth nervously.

“I’m someone with whom you ought to be on friendly terms.” The answer is whispered directly into my ear, making me jump suddenly.

Smack! Smack! Another two blows to my behind, hard enough to bring fresh tears to my eyes—W _hy? Why did he hit me just now? What did I do?_

“It’s for your fear of me. You needn’t flinch when I merely whisper in your ear. I’d like to train you out of that habit. It makes me feel like a… monster.” A small chuckle comes from behind me. “I’m sure your owner would appreciate it if you didn’t flinch from his whispers either. Especially when he means to be tender.”

It occurs to me that I didn’t ask the question out loud. _Is he able to read my mind? Or is the expression just obvious on my face or my body somehow? I am beginning to think that Kaltz and Verg were lying when they said my voice held power. So far, I think it’s done nothing but get me in trouble today. It’s almost as though my voice has egged Sebastian on in his punishment._

“Oh, you’ve got that right!” The sudden whisper comes again—and I flinch again, and then ready myself for the upcoming punishment. Before he can hit me, the tears come, and I beg, “I’m _sorry_ —I was just startled! I wasn’t trying to be rude. It's just I can’t see you, and your voice was on the other side before. I was just _startled_ , that’s all. This all feels so intense when I can’t see you and I don’t know what to expect. _Please_ don't hurt me anymore.”

No punishment comes—at least not this time—and there is a silent pause for a moment. I wonder if it’s finally over, and perhaps, the devils were right. _Maybe I just wasn’t using my voice at the right time._

“You know, sweet Konoe, you’re right. It _does_ feel much more intense when you can’t see, doesn’t it?” I suddenly feel something soft against my face, and then my vision goes dark. I can’t see anything. My body goes rigid in fear—I’m terrified. _This is not what I wanted._ All my fur stands on end, and I am terrified of what this cat/person/demon is going to do to me. I know he has it out for me, and I have no idea what to do to please him.

I’m exhausted, and my body is worn out. I am filled with terror. I do the only thing I know to do: beg and plead.

“P-please. _Please_. N-no.” The tears that flow from my eyes and sobs coming from my mouth make my words almost unrecognizable, so I try to speak more intelligibly. “ _Please_. Let me go. Please release me. I don’t even know what you _want_ from me.”

“Oh, I told you what I want. I want to teach you. And you wanted to learn. Are you changing your mind?”

My mind is working slowly now—my terror has taken over my functioning thought process. _He’s teaching me something—what?_

“T-to submit. T-to b-become a b-better c-companion for Rai.”

“Correct. However—“ And I feel another hard smack on my ass, and cry out in response. “You should be referring to him as ‘your master,’ and not so casually.”

“Yes-s-s-s, s-s-sir.” All those sibilant sounds in a row nearly turn into a hiss, but I desperately hold back for fear of reprisal.

“So, in submission, do you know what you’ve agreed to do for me?”

I pause to think a moment, which turns out to be too long for him to wait, and he smacks me again.

“Ouch! Ah—yes. I do know. I was only trying to c-collect my thoughts into w-words. I’m s-sorry. I’ve agreed to d-do anything y-you d-deem n-necessary.”

“Correct. And how do you think you are faring so far?”

“N-not very well, sir.” _What kind of question is this?_

“On what do you base your answer?”

“Well, m-my physical c-condition.” _Is he going to make me say it?_

A small chuckle from behind me again—the blindfold makes everything sound so much different—when he spanks my ass, it’s so loud in the room, and the feeling even more intense. When he isn’t hitting me, he’s rubbing his hands all over my ass, and that feels… much _different_ from spanking. Weirdly, it feels disturbingly good. _I hate it._ _I hate that I’m getting turned on by this. It must be the heat._

“Yes, I suppose that’s a good indication. I’m going to try some different things now. I want you to cooperate with me, Konoe. Do you understand? You will be punished if you don’t submit.”

Fear comes creeping down my spine, like a glass of ice water being poured on me. I swallow and nod. I get another smack on my ass, and I cry loudly again.

“I require an audible assent from you. I want to hear your voice, Konoe.”

“Yes, sir, I understand.” _He wants to hear my voice? Why? Gods, my ass is killing me._

I hear the click before I feel the release of one of my wrists, and then I’m flipped over onto my back. My right hand is still above my head, my left hand is free, and I bring it in close to my body, sneakily giving my sore ass a quick rub. It feels hot to touch.

I feel a strange sensation above my waist—is it fabric?—and then I feel what I believe is his full body weight coming down and straddling me from above, on my thighs. That means he has a full view of me—and I’m _sure_ he can see I’m half hard. I frantically try not to think about him staring at me, and I’m tempted to cover myself with my left hand. Even my tail floats above my private parts for just a moment. Then I hear his voice.

“Don’t cover yourself. I’m sitting like this so I can admire you. You’re a companion. You were purchased for your looks. You should be proud of how you look—especially nude. It’s fine if you’re a bit bashful—that innocent blush is lovely—but when your master wants to look at you, let him admire his purchase. Do not cover yourself.”

The way he says that— _admire his purchase_ —it makes me feel like a toy, a thing, an object—and bile rises in my throat. I remember the humiliation of the auction, and I feel even more nauseated. I remember how I was treated in that place—how that gray cat pulled me aside for humiliation and beatings, and how he put his hands on me, trying (and succeeding) to break my spirit.

“Are those memories of the auction house?” _I knew it! He’s reading my mind, just like the devils can do._

I can’t help the surprised sound that falls from my lips, but I follow it with a question. “Are you a devil? Kaltz and Verg can do that, too. They say if my mind is filled with emotional memories, it’s easy for them to read.”

A loud chuckle comes from Sebastian, and he says, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to just admit it, but yes. I’m a different sort than either of them. But yes, I _am_ a demon. And keep that tail under control. It’s blocking my view.”

I grab my tail and tuck it underneath my body, to keep it safe, and I notice that my face is very hot. I wonder if I’ve been blushing this entire time, and if my ears are hot, too. I reach up to my ears, and the one I touch is burning up. And my chest is hot. I’m sure I must be pink. It’s a good thing he doesn’t want me to control my blushing because that isn’t something I could ever do—no matter how much I’m beaten.

I feel a touch against my ear again, and I fight to keep it where it is. The touch is startling—so my inclination is to flick it away, but I don’t. I keep my ears standing still, though I flinch a little, just from being startled. I worry the flinch will be offensive, so I try to breathe deeply—in and out—trying to tell myself I will be OK.

“That is better than before.” His voice is suddenly very close to my face. I feel something moist on my cheek—a tongue, maybe? He’s licking my jaw, from my chin upwards, and I fight all the instincts in my body to keep my body still.

“Very good. You want to try to throw me off, don’t you?” His voice is very low, almost like a growl.

“N-no. I w-want to please you.” I think this is what I want. _What I really want is for this to be over, so he will get the fuck off me and leave me alone so my body will heal. Isn’t there a way to hurry this along?_

I feel his body freeze over mine—everything gets very still—unearthly still—and I realize with horror he may have heard what I was thinking. My heart stops.

“Oh ho?”

 _Oh no._ The dread and panic are piling up, and my heartbeat has become very, very loud in my ears. ( _At least my heart is working again._ )

“Don’t you want to say that last thought out loud, my dear?”

“Th-that I w-want to p-please you?” I stutter desperately, hoping that will work.

“Not that, you idiot! I can read your damn mind!” I feel him grab my chin, and those claws of his come out against the soft skin on my face once more. “Tell me, _out loud_ , what your last thought was!”

“I-I-I am j-just so t-tired from l-last night,” I try desperately to explain.

“I don’t _want_ your explanation. I want to hear the last thought you had spoken out loud, or I will break your jaw, gods help me!”

From the grip he has on me, I really do believe him, and I am desperate, so I just whisper it as quickly as I can, guilty tears streaming down my face.

“I wished there was a way to hurry this along.”

“And there _sure_ is! Let me tell you, there _certainly_ is a way for me to hurry this along. I was only offering you a simple _kindness_ , considering those _activities_ that occurred last night. But if _brevity_ is your single concern, well, I can meet those demands as well! Never in my life have I met such a _demanding_ companion, by the gods!!”

Hearing his tone is really frightening, and I cower before him, wanting to hide in a hole. I'm filled with deep and terrible regret—but I just couldn't stop that thought in time. My fear is overwhelming. I’m desperate to appease him, and I try to do just that.

“S-Sebastian, sir, I’m s-so sorry. I w-was foolish. I d-didn’t kn-now. I’m t-tired, and m-my b-body is s-sore. I was b-being s-selfish, and a t-terrible c-companion, and I t-took advantage of y-your g-graciousness to h-help m-me b-better m-myself.”

The tears are flowing freely between my words, sobs nearly overcoming my ability to speak. I’m not sure if I’m desperate to appease him because I don’t know what he’s going to do to me—would a beating be better than whatever he’s going to do to me next?

“P-please h-have m-mercy on m-me. I d-don’t kn-now any b-better.”

I don’t know what else I can say at this point, but I can feel pure rage above me, which is terrifying, since this cat hasn't expressed any emotions at all so far, except for that little bit of drooling earlier, whatever that was supposed to be. I never even felt any desire before that, so that’s why I was caught so off guard by his attention. 

He lets my chin go, and I feel his hand sliding down to my throat, which he wraps his hand around, ever so slowly. The panic rises—I want to grab his hand with my free one and fight him off, but I know if I do, he will accuse me of not submitting, so I force my free hand down, and I grab my tail instead, to keep it in place. He starts to squeeze—lightly—putting even pressure against my throat. I realize he could _easily_ kill me if he wanted to. Even if I fought my hardest, I wouldn’t have a chance with my dominant hand restrained. He probably wants me to realize that, and I do.

I become very still—trying not to move, trying to be as submissive as possible—but I can’t see his face, and I can’t see what he is doing, so fear and anxiety are becoming unbearable the longer this goes on. I feel tears falling down my cheeks, but I still don't move. He keeps his hand around my throat for a couple of minutes or so—but it feels like an eternity. Once he lets go of my throat, he grabs me by my tail again, and yanks, _hard_ —hard enough to flip me over to my front again.

I scream out in pain—my tail is going to break with all this rough handling! It’s not meant to carry all my weight like this, and it’s already fluffed out and stiff. I feel the pop in my spine again, and it hurts so much!

“That’s good, I _want_ to hear you—don’t stifle your voice.” His voice sounds remarkably calm, for as angry as I think he is. However, the way he’s grabbing me, pulling my tail to position me—back with my legs beneath me like before, and then spreading my legs wide from there—I yell again when I feel a pop in my hips—I’ve had so much trauma to my lower region, I dread what is coming next. I squeeze my eyes closed behind the blindfold.

And then—without any preparation, without any lubrication, without any warning—I feel his entire length tear into me. I feel like I am being torn apart—and the pain wrenches a scream from my innermost being. My drawn claws grab the chaise with all their might, and my fangs are bared, and my voice is at top volume.

He is violating me with all of his anger, all of his resentment, all of his negative emotion—and I feel them in the second thrust, as he pulls all the way out and thrusts back in, exactly like the first. It hurts even more than the first if such a thing is possible. A second scream tears from my throat, but I find myself at the edge of despair.

“ _Please_!” I scream. “Please—no! Not so rough! I can't—“ and I don’t get a chance to finish because he’s thrusting in and out again.

“You’re so nice and warm—so tight—despite those activities from last night with those other devils.” His voice is covered with something that sounds like passion—he’s _enjoying_ this—and my stomach turns over, and I feel vomit rising in my throat from the pain. In fact, I do vomit, over the side of the chaise onto the floor, around the fourth thrust.

I feel my breath being taken away with each thrust, and after the first half dozen thrusts, my blood starts to act as a lubricant—so they become a little smoother. Still incredibly painful, but smoother—and so he quickens his pace, which is torture in itself, and I don’t know how to handle the increase in tempo. I feel like my insides are on fire, though I'm not fighting him anymore. I can't. I just don't have the energy. The pain is too much, and I've lost the will to fight. I just let him do what he wants with my body, feeling my insides burning up. The thought crosses my mind, _what if I'm ruined for my master, because of one, careless thought?_  I'm filled with regret.

 _What has happened to me that I’m now being raped by a demon?_  I hear small sobbing sounds in the room—crying, desperate sobbing sounds—and I realize that they are from me. They sound so pathetic and gross, and I am powerless to help myself. 

“No, those sounds aren’t pathetic,” his silken voice floats directly into my ears from behind me. “I love the sound of your cries. It’s a beautiful noise—like music to my ears. It soothes my very soul. As if your cries were made for me. I want to take you with me, so you can cry for me the rest of eternity.”

The thought fills me with absolute terror. _I want this blindfold off—and I think of how I got here—how my stupid uncontrolled thoughts of trying to get out of this faster were a good idea_ —and sure enough—it’s not too much longer until Sebastian’s pace quickens even more, and then finally, I hear him say, “Not too much longer now. I could make it pleasant for you, you know. But you were the one who was in a big hurry.”

I snarl and snap back at him, over my shoulder. “I want for nothing but my master.”

“Oh ho? Is that the case?” I feel him change his angle slightly. I will not cooperate. My body is tense, all the way from my shoulders to my feet. I’m squeezing my eyes closed, despite the blindfold, to keep the tears in check, and I’m clamping my mouth closed against the sobs. My dick was half hard earlier, but it went soft immediately upon penetration. The pain was too much—all at once—it was way too intense. _And I don’t understand why Sebastian hates me. I’m confused as to why he is hurting me like this. It’s so violent—this doesn’t feel like sex at all—it feels like a way for him to establish dominance and superiority. I already know that he is superior and dominant. Did he feel like he needed to teach me another way?_

I feel his dick inside me, trying to brush against my prostate—against that hidden part inside of me that can make me feel so wonderful—but I won’t relax. _I want this over._ I’m stubborn about this, _and I want this done, and I don’t need to feel good. It feels like shit, and I would just feel confused if it ended up feeling good._

Suddenly, I realize what he’s trying to do. _Oh, no._

“We are going to do this, Konoe, until you let yourself enjoy this activity with me,” Sebastian says. His voice is neutral yet firm. He pulls all the way out, and then slowly pushes himself back in, dragging right along that spot I enjoy so much. I can feel my body quivering with need, but I force it down.

“Why do you do this to yourself, Kitty?” I feel his hands on my ass. They even creep around and surround my dick, stroking me gently, as though he _weren’t_  raping me, thrusting into me completely dry and without warning.

“I don’t know what you _want_ from me,” My voice is small. I'm crying openly now, frustrated, confused.

“Of course you do, young one.” Now his tone is filled with false sincerity, false loving tenderness, “You know I want you to be the best companion there is out there. There may be times your owner needs this kind of sex. He needs to rape you. What do you do? Pout? Hell no. Put out—which yes, you have. But you are withholding your love and kindness. If he offers something to you—anything—it could be a form of forgiveness (because you have offended him) or an olive branch (perhaps he did something that bothered you, which he should never need to do, as _you_ are the pet), you should never ignore this. You must respond, immediately and with gusto. Lap up every ounce of attention you get from your owner because it very well be the _last_ you ever get.”

I can feel a growl starting in the back of my throat. _Is he fucking kidding?_

“Konoe, I am a demon. I can go all day if I have to. Can you? Your body is in pretty bad shape inside. If I had known how bad of shape you were in, I might have saved this lesson for another day, but I think you will learn this lesson _that_ much more effectively. Do you know what you need to do? That sound I'm hearing had _better_ be a loud purr and _not_ a growl.”

To the best of my ability, I change it from a growl to a purr. Then, I try to relax my body, as best as I can, at least my lower body. And as soon as I do, I feel the hard, fast thrusting begin again—and _gods! It’s so painful!_ Only Ribika herself could save me now. My ass is burning up—every time that monstrous dick enters me, I can almost feel the slimy gore coming out with it—like it’s flaying me alive, from the inside out.

“That’s just it—you’re giving a piece of yourself to me! Excellent.”

 _Commentary… Ugh_ —I try not to think about the commentary. _Nothing good will come from it._ But when I relax, I try to start concentrating on the feelings—and still, only pain—raw pain—is here. So I stay in the pain for a little while and then wait. As the pounding continues, I notice Sebastian starts to pick up the pace again, moving slightly with each thrust. I realize I’ll need to give him a hint when it starts to feel good, so I’m pretty quiet at first. When the first white background comes over my eyes—it’s so strange, since I’m blindfolded, and I see nothing—except white—I cry out—or I try to—and he moves right past it.

I try again, “Sebastian, sir, when you…”

“Yes, kitty?”

“I just felt a very sensitive spot back there when you thrust in a particular place.”

“Did you?”

“Isn’t that what you were looking for?”

“Oh, I suppose it was something like I was looking for.”

“Oh.” I’m literally crestfallen. I sink my head into my arms, stretched out in front of me on the chaise. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. “S-sir?”

“What is it?”

“Would you like me to let you know when it feels good? Or would you like me to keep my noise to a minimum? I don't understand what you want from me.” _It can’t hurt to be direct, can it?_

“Hmm. Excellent question. It might be nice to know what feels good and what doesn’t. If I do something that hurts you, let me know. If I do something pleasurable, let me know.” _It_ all _hurts, asshole!_

I can do that, and I nod. I get another really hard spank on the back of my ass, and I cry out again, in surprise—did he grow another hand? How can he fuck me _and_ spank me _and_ hold onto me like that, all at the same time? _Whose hand was that??_

“Remember to use your words, Konoe. I like to hear your voice. I bet your owner does, too. It soothes the soul.”

 _What does that mean? Soothes the soul._ I grumble to myself. As Sebastian continues fucking me roughly, there are many more times that I am hurt than feel good, and it doesn’t feel like Sebastian is paying attention to any of this.

“I am paying attention. I just want to see how accurate you’re being, or if you’re being overly sensitive. That’s all.”

I guess that makes sense. But I am sure my insides can’t take much more. I hope I can come soon, that we both can come soon. And an idea pops into my head.

“Sebastian. Sir.” I lower my voice to the lowest pitch I can manage, but I struggle to find the sensual voice I’m trying to project—as each of Sebastian’s thrusts violently pushes the air out of my lungs, drowning out my desperate attempt to sound willing and eager. “Is there anything I can do that _you_ would find more pleasurable? I realize you’re doing most of the work since I’m restrained. But what would you like _me_ to do that will increase your pleasure? Is there anything that brings you to the edge?”

Sebastian stops his thrusting quite suddenly. I am a little frightened. After all this discussion about being responsive to my master’s needs, I’m pretty sure this is what he as talking about. But with my eye blindfolded, I can’t see Sebastian’s expression.

I feel featherlight touch against my skin, and suddenly, my neck is pulled back at a painfully awkward angle. My lips are taken, quite violently but passionately—which is a huge relief from the violence I was just feeling. I feel Sebastian’s long tongue exploring my mouth—I think this is the first time he’s kissed me deeply—and he literally “takes me.” He is a surprisingly good kisser.

“Wow,” I can’t help sighing. Then, I add cleverly, “Verg says he’s the Devil of Pleasure, but how, when you kiss like this? Why didn’t you get that job?”

Apparently, that was the right thing to say, because I hear another sound of him sighing, “What a _sweet_ thing you are,” before kissing me again, and then he says, “Come here.”

The movements are different now. They are much more gentle and considerate. I’m still very sore from the initial penetration (I am still not used to this kind of contact, plus our bodies differ a lot in stature), but the demon has slowed down, it seems in kindness or consideration. So I try to keep it up—using the _only_ weapon I have at my disposal: my voice.

“Ah—mmm,” I sigh. “That feels good.” It doesn’t _really_ feel that good. It’s just that it feels a _million_ times better than whatever that violence was earlier, and I know I can’t do that again.

I feel him whispering in my ear again, “Tell me how you like it.”

“Slow—gentle—but like you mean it,” I say, without hesitation, and I arch my back into his touches to show my appreciation. I feel disgusted in my own actions raising its ugly head—I can’t believe I’ve humbled myself to this monster’s level, but I have to get out of this without being fucked to death, and I’m afraid he won’t stop otherwise. So I just play along. What’s the Two Cane saying? Is this what “fake it till you make it” means?

I sigh loudly again as if I’ve never felt anything better than this, and I realize I may have a small problem, as my dick isn’t responding, and I don't have access to it myself--at least not easily. The blindfold works to my advantage, however, and these more tender touches help me a little.

“Tell me what you want.” I feel his hands against my ass again, right where we are connected. It’s disconcerting. “I know I was hurting you. How do you want me to touch you?”

 _Uh—what? Is he serious?_ My ears flush bright red again—I know they are, especially when I feel something damp against the tip of one of them.

“You know, the jewelry looks amazingly sexy against your skin when it flushes pink like this. I love to fluster you, Konoe. It’s so unusual to find a companion who isn’t comfortable with his body’s responses, who doesn’t just embrace them, and I think your reactions are just _adorable_.”

Him saying that doesn’t help me. But I lick my lips, and I concentrate, pretending for a moment that Rai is behind me. I ignore the liquid I feel dripping down my thighs—pretending it’s Rai’s precum and not the blood from his earlier violent treatment of me that it most likely is. I relax my body as best as I can, and I open my mouth.

“I like slower movement—teasing at first,” my shy voice manages to say. He starts moving slowly to my relief, so I add, “and maybe not in and out all the way, maybe not your entire length withdrawing—if you would, use slightly shorter strokes, please?”

He complies, to my disbelief. It starts to feel much better.

“What about my hands, Konoe?” I shiver when he says my name with that low voice of his. He is not Rai, but there’s something about it when he says my name. There’s a monster fucking me, and he’s allowing me to control this now, with only my words. “Do you want me to touch your chest, like this? Play with your nipples?”

I feel his hands reaching under my body, which is pressed hard against the chaise, and he finds my nipples and squeezes the tender flesh between his forefingers and thumbs—rolling them teasingly. He must have licked his fingers first because they feel cold and lubricated. It feels good.

“Ah—ugh…” I sigh. “I think I want you to touch my—“ _Oh, crap, I can’t ask for this._ And so I say, “That’s nice.”

I can _feel_ him smiling behind me, and he stops—he stops moving, too. I look behind me, even with the blindfold on, knowing I can’t see anything.

“You were doing so well, Konoe. Try again, so we can keep this positive. One more time, hmm?” I feel his palm, flattening against my ass again, a threat.

Quickly, I realize this is the only warning I will get, so I rush the words, “My dick! I want you to touch my dick.”

“Ah, I see.” The slow movements start again, and he slides his hands down my sides, and one hand grabs my dick, palming my groin firmly, causing me to release a lewd-sounding sigh, much to my embarrassment.

“And maybe—would you stroke me?” I ask timidly.

“Gladly.” Using featherlight, teasing strokes, he strokes my dick, which makes it harden, but it starts to drive me insane. _That is not enough stimulation, and he knows it!_

“Please,” I beg. “ _Please_ —uh—ah…”

“I like that you’re being so respectful, Konoe,” comes the voice again. “But you need to be more specific. I don’t know what you want.” _Even though I’m practically humping his hand, he can’t figure out what I’m saying?_ Frustration starts to build in my mind and in my body, and I lick my lips.

“Please—stroke me a little more firmly,” I ask, very quietly, into my arms in the chaise. I know my face is burning up. I feel him kiss my pink ears again.

“ _Adorable_.” Another light kiss and lick to the outer part of my ear. “You’re coming out of your shell. Very good.”

I feel his other hand traveling down toward my very sore tail, and he starts to play with the fur on the tip. I think, _wait—I could ask about this, too!_

“Wait—Sebastian, sir— _please_ —my tail—would you stroke the base of my tail? Firmly, but not pulling too hard?”

“That was very specific, and nicely requested, as well.” He rewards me with another kiss and also by obliging my request. I realize my body is finally responding, and I am melting into the sensations.

Sweet sighs are coming out of my mouth now—with every one of his gentle thrusts, as well as corresponding strokes to my dick and tail—I can’t help the look on my face nor how my pleasure is building. I don't care at this point, either.

I lick my lips again, and I manage to ask, “Is this pleasing to you? Am _I_ pleasing to you? Should I do anything more?”

Sebastian laughs quietly and says, “No, just _relax_ into the pleasure—I can feel your anxiety and shame from feeling pleasure like this. This is a gift from me to you. You need to feel it when it’s offered to you from those above you.”

 _Those above me?_ That makes my hackles raise, but the pleasure is making my mind fuzzy. And he’s controlling my mind with how I’m feeling right now. And I feel such shame for having asked for what I wanted. My face is flushing, and my chest is flushing, when suddenly he changes his angle of thrusting while keeping his pace slow and gentle.

“Waa—wait—ahhhhh!” It feels so good, but also overwhelming—it’s that secret spot inside me again, and I arch my body against his. The noises that come out of me are so loud that I cover my mouth with my arms against the chaise.

“Remember what I said about not hiding your voice, Konoe.” I feel a palm, flat against my ass, even while he is thrusting into me. I think it was the hand that was rubbing my tail... or else he has that extra hand?  “Don’t hide it. Let out your voice. I want to know how you feel.”

So I move my mouth away from my arm, tilting my head to the side, and let out those sounds free into the room, totally ashamed. He brushes the spot again, and the sensation electrifies my body. My voice seems to light up the room. I can almost see it, despite being blindfolded.

“I can’t hold on—if you keep—d-doing that!” I am desperate for release.

“Oh, I’d like you to wait till I’m ready, dear Konoe.” _What? What is this? How can I wait?_

“What? I don’t think I c—ahhhhh!” Another near scream is pulled from my body as he brushes the spot inside me again. Tears are flowing from my eyes. _I don’t think I can wait._ The change from extreme pain I was in earlier to this earth-shattering pleasure is nerve-wracking. _I’m not sure how to handle it, and I do my best to hold on, hoping he will finish soon._

He speeds up his pace again, close to that brutal speed he was doing before—only this time, brushing that sensitive spot repeatedly, causing me to cry out and lose my breath each time. It’s such a strange sensation because my insides are definitely still sore, but the pleasure seems to overtake the pain.

I hang on as long as I can, but soon—I shout, “Soon, sir—I can’t— _please_!”

I’m begging and sobbing again—this time with pleasure as the cause of being overwhelmed, rather than pain. Or is it pain? Perhaps it’s painful as well.

“All right, go ahead and come.” The words are spoken, and I have never been so relieved. His hand on my dick lightens its pressure slightly, and I climax all over the chaise and in his hand.

It feels like all the frustration and tears I’d been experiencing this morning are released in a great wave of pleasure—a huge sense of relief from my hips—my body clenching around his dick inside me as I experience it. I can hear him stuttering as I come, so he must be experiencing his own climax as well—and _my gods, he’d better be done with me, because I cannot take any more of this._

As I lie there, with my arm stretched out in front of me on the chaise, I feel him pull out of my body and climax on top of my ass. It burns since my skin is so tender and sore.

“Ah—look at that. All pink, the white mixed with your blood—so beautiful against your skin.”

I’m just glad I can’t see it. At this moment, I need to rest and relax. I don’t feel like I can move. When he pulled out, it felt like he might have pulled some of my insides with him, but I don’t want to think about that.

I need to bathe, and that’s going to be unpleasant. It’s going to sting. But I need to take care of my skin. I will as soon as I have the energy.

I hear another click, and realize he’s released the other wrist from its restraint. I pull my arm underneath my body, and curl my tail around myself on the chaise, remaining still.

“You look a mess, Konoe,” Sebastian says. “You must get cleaned up before someone sees you like this.”

“Can’t I please just rest a moment? Please? Just for five minutes?” I plead. The blindfold is removed, and I boldly meet those amazingly frightening red eyes. I’m so thankful he blindfolded me. “Didn’t I please you? Won’t you permit me to rest just a short while first?”

Sebastian lets out a short, exasperated sigh, rubbing my ears, which I manage to keep perfectly still. They do _not_  flick down or out of his reach, much to my joy. He seems pleased with this development as well.

“All right. I will finish some work on this floor. But when I return, you’ll need to bathe. I won’t take any trouble from you, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you!” I stay right where I am, and close my eyes for a much-needed rest. My sore self doesn’t move an inch from the chaise—except for my arms being pulled close to my body and my tail, coiling around myself in a tight ball.


	8. Broken Spirit - Rai x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one from Broken Spirit (there are a lot of beatings in that one, I guess, so I'm pulling just my favorites), and this is one of my favorites.
> 
> Rai takes his companion upstairs for a promised punishment--and Konoe is having some regrets for having provoked his master. Konoe's POV.

_Why did I do this?_

I deliberately asked for it. I’m not sure I’d say I exactly  _provoked_ Rai, but I did indicate that this is what I wanted. I deliberately did specific things to indicate that _this_ is what I wanted. And now—here I am—being dragged back up to the bedroom for what exactly, I don’t really know, but I’m more than a little nervous.

No, I should just be honest. I know _exactly_ what’s coming next.

It’s just... never happened before. Not with _Rai_.

My heart is thumping loudly in my ears, and goosebumps shiver across my skin in anticipation, and _neither_  reaction is because I’m afraid. My reactions are because I’m anticipating this. Oddly, I’m incredibly excited and aroused— _still_. I can't wait for him to get his hands on me.

I think. Perhaps I am just a _little_ afraid.

Shouldn't I _hate_ this? He is trying to control my behavior, trying to control me, trying to control my attitude, even. Why don't I hate this? If anything, I think I hate myself a little bit for being this aroused. What is wrong with me? Am I really _that_ desperate for his attention?

Rai opens the door to the bedroom, walks in, and sets me down on the floor, gently.

“Well, then. Do you think this is what is needed to adjust your attitude? If so, I will do what is required.”

He sounds so calm and collected—just like usual. His beautiful pale blue eye is watching me, as I kneel on the floor before him. He takes a seat on the side of the bed, and between my heart racing uncontrollably and my ears ringing, it's difficult for me to understand his words.

“I don’t think this is going to be what you are anticipating. However, I will do it nonetheless because I think it’s what’s you need. Come.” He pats the bed next to him, indicating he'd like me to climb up on his lap. 

For a moment, I remain frozen in place, unsure of whether I should I obey. I am finding it difficult to make eye contact. Was this a mistake? Have I made a serious miscalculation? I’m not sure this is what _I_ want anymore, either. But if it isn’t, why did I behave the way I did in the dining room? It seemed like my body was acting like that on its own accord, provoking him on its own. Do I really just crave his attention?

“Konoe, I told you to come here.” The calm voice doesn't waver.

I look up at him now, and his face is still composed. I lower my face and crawl over to the bed next to where he is sitting, but my change of heart makes me hesitate once more before climbing up on his lap.

It turns out I don’t have to. He lifts me from the floor as though I am weightless, easily pulling me up over his knee, laying me on the bed, draping my legs off the side of his lap. My lower body is mostly on his lap, my chest and above resting comfortably on the bed. He smooths both hands across my back, over my clothes, pushing against me in firm but gentle strokes.

“Even now, you are flouting my commands. How disobedient. You don’t come when you are called. You wouldn’t allow me to care for you this morning. Your attitude is terrible. What are we going to do to fix this, hmm?” His voice has softened slightly.

His hand stays on my ass, stroking me softly. I’m still very aroused from our unfinished activities earlier this morning. I’m sure he can feel it through my clothes, since I’m currently pressed against him, almost uncomfortably. It feels good, though—and I appreciate his touch on me. But his words strike fear into my heart and make it flutter higher into my throat.

“Little one, I know you aren’t happy about your status as my companion. Let me make this easier for you. You don’t have choices here. The _only_ choice you have right now is to submit and obey. That is all. Let me take care of the rest of your needs, all right?”

His hand is still rubbing me—all around my ass, my lower back, my thighs. And then, he starts lifting up my robe—ever so slowly, tantalizingly.

I inhale sharply. I realize I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think I want this after all! I feel panic rising in my chest, and the pressure is suddenly too much. The way he’s doing this is… too slow. It’s torturous and teasing, and it’s too much to take. Plus I thought he was going to do this _over_ my clothing! Isn’t _that_ what he said? This is going to be mortifying—and I can't take this!

“N-no,” the word slips out of my mouth, and I can’t stop myself. I start to squirm off his lap, but the hand on my lower back firmly holds me in place. “ _Please_ —no.”

“Remember, little one,” he purrs softly—and he is _actually_ purring now—I can feel it rumbling softly on my hip pressed against his belly, “this is what _you_ asked for downstairs. You need to be very careful what you request from me. And as I’m sure you've already learned by now, you don’t get to refuse. Your response to me is always  _yes_. Let’s see if we can't adjust your attitude just a little.”

“Please,” I beg. Shameful tears burn in the back of my eyes, and I haven’t even felt anything painful yet. He hasn’t hit me, and I’m barely even exposed: the robe is only lifted to my knees. He’s lifting it deliberately slowly, keeping one hand on my lower back, preventing my escape, and the other ever so slowly revealing bare skin. His fingertips tickling the backs of my knees—walking over them gently.

“You’re doing very well. Just _submit_. Use this opportunity to practice submission.”

That calm cool sound of his voice is changing, little by little. It's dropping in pitch, becoming slightly breathier. Is that my imagination? Does he enjoy this? Does he enjoy feeling power over me, or is he anticipating something? I try to keep my body still, but I squirm slightly when his fingers reach the backs of my thighs. They slip down between them—moving gently and slowly, exploring the texture of my skin. I wonder if he’s looking at me, and if he is, how closely—and I blush fiercely at the thought of being under such scrutiny.

I feel terribly exposed. It’s too much! This is horribly embarrassing.

“Please,” I beg again. “ _Please_!”

“Submit,” comes the voice, even lower, this time, and his hand lingers at my sit spot—right where my legs and bottom meet—and they tickle—well, they don’t _exactly_ tickle, if I’m completely honest. They feel _amazing_. That area is so sensitive, and his touch is making me even harder. I realize he can probably tell the effect his touch is having since I’m pressed against his legs, he can obviously feel me twitching against his lap. I feel my ears heating up. His hand flattens suddenly, cupping the bare skin of my ass, and I gasp loudly in surprise.

Just as I notice how very hot my ears are—they feel like they are burning—the hand on my lower back moves, brushing the tips of my ears.

“I want your ass the same color as these beautiful ears of yours, Konoe,” his purring voice says. It’s mortifying, and I try _not_ to think of the other recent times I’ve been spanked, but of course, they pop into my head, completely unbidden.

Would he have _enjoyed_ seeing me punished at the Lord of Ransen’s estate? Would he have enjoyed seeing me spanked and whipped? I was punished _so_  severely, and many times over. My body was toyed with till I could no longer stand—would he have enjoyed watching me come undone like that? Would _I_ have liked it, if he were watching?

I don’t know if I feel more aroused or humiliated, but the cool breeze from the open window against the skin of my ass sends a little shiver through my body, which I'm sure he feels, too, making me even more aware of how exposed I am.

“Perhaps I should have done this in the dining room in front of the guests,” he continues in a near whisper. “I just couldn’t bring myself to share your charms. Plus, there’s a part of me that believes you’d enjoy that a little too much for your own good and miss the lesson I’m trying to teach.”

He squeezes my right cheek lightly.

“You realize I’m trying to teach you something here, don’t you? Tell me what it is, hmm?”

Does he want me to answer him? Out loud? Like, with actual words? I don’t think I can. I don’t think I can talk to him when I’m lying in this position. I’m far too excited—and I’m way too ashamed.

“Little one, I need to you answer me.” The fingers wander down my ass again, slipping between my cheeks again, and I arch my back in response to that touch.

“Yes, sir,” I answer quietly, speaking into the mattress.

“What lesson am I trying to teach you?”

“Mmm,” I say, trying to sound obedient without actually saying anything. 

The hand in my ears returns to my lower back, holding me down firmly. My erection is pressed against his legs rather firmly as well, and I let out a tiny groan. And then—the hand stroking my ass suddenly stops. A sudden smack against my cheeks startles me—it makes a _remarkably_  loud sound, echoing in the room—and it’s followed by a sharp, stinging pain—not at _all_ what I was expecting, which causes me to cry out suddenly and press my feet to the floor. However, right after the slap, his hand comes back to rest on my skin immediately—cupping the area he just spanked and stroking it firmly with his fingers, pressing me hard against his lap. That confuses my nerves, making me feel... pleasure?

It is such a surprising mix of pleasure and pain that I can’t help the small cry—and it was just a _single_ spank—but the pained cry coming from my mouth changes into a purring, mewling sound. My response is unseemly and embarrassing.

“I am waiting for your answer, little one,” he reminds me.

“Um,” I try again, struggling to make words. “You require my submission?” I ask.

“Good. What else?”

When I don’t immediately answer, I feel him take his hand away, and I just  _know_ he’s going to spank me again. This time, however, he aims directly for my sit spot. It’s even louder and harder, and I cry out in what I think is pain. However, just like before, right after he spanks me, he cradles my sit spot with his open hand, rubbing the area, almost as though to disperse the offended nerves—which strangely turns the pain into an extremely pleasurable sensation. It’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced. It feels _so_ good, and I moan with pleasure, and I can’t help squirming in his lap, rubbing myself rather lewdly against him, my dick now dripping with precum.

There’s no _way_ I can talk when I’m this aroused. My thighs part slightly, my mouth is open, and I want _more_. I feel totally obscene at this point, yet I’m ashamed to be seen like this. My rational brain hasn't yet been able to give in to the pleasure I'm feeling, but the desire in my body is almost winning the war with rationality.

“What else, little one?”

“You want me to come when I’m called.” I’m shocked that I’m able to speak, in fact, the words almost spill out on their own—but the word “come” is in this sentence, and that word is very prominent in my mind at this very moment, for some strange reason.

“Very good.” His hand keeps rubbing me and slips down between my legs drawing an absolutely filthy sound from my throat. I am grunting and sighing, and I am pushing my ass up into his hands—I want his touch _so much_ —I am so turned on right now I don’t know what to do. I want to _come_ —I've wanted to since this morning.

“ _Please_ , I can’t,” I start to beg, the tears in my eyes threaten to fall, and to my surprise, a loud, sticky purr starts rumbling in the back of my throat. My tail, which is ridiculously fluffy, has been completely out of control this entire time, is begging him for release, coiling itself around his arm. He strokes the crooked tip fondly, sending a little wave a pleasure shivering down my tail into my hips.

“Oh, you _can_ , and you _will_ , because it pleases me. What else am I trying to teach you? Submission, coming when you’re called—and not _until_ you’re called, mind you. What else?”

 _How dirty_ , I think, and I get even more aroused.

“I can’t take anymore,” I beg. “ _Please_ , Rai— _please!_ ”

Another spank on my ass—also directed to my sit spot—and then another one—two in a row—hard and loud—and his hand rubs the areas he spanked, dispersing the pain, turning it into pleasure, turning my cries of pain into ecstatic cries of indulgence. I don’t even recognize my own body. What is happening to me?

“ _Please_ ,” I beg. 

“Answer my questions first, little one, and then we will see to your release.” I notice his voice has gotten quite hoarse as well. Is he feeling it as well? Oh—the thought that I might have the power to turn him on by being so ridiculously aroused myself makes my chest hurt. But now, I have a motivation to answer his questions, so I try a little harder to get my brain, hazy with desire, to function.

“Improve my attitude,” I say.

“Very good.”

Rai grabs the base of my tail with the hand pressing on my lower back, holding it firmly, making me arch my back and presenting my ass fully. As a reward for my last response, he spanks me three times in quick succession—hard, stinging slaps on each cheek and on my sit spot. Then, as before, he quickly rubs me down, slipping his fingers between my legs and down my thighs, distributing the pain and pleasurable sensations even further. 

My back is arched, and I'm not struggling to get away. Not once have I tried to cover myself from these punishing spanks. I’m eager for _more_ —I had no idea a spanking could feel like this. _I want more._

“ _Please_ ,” I beg. Am I begging for more? Do I want more? What is _wrong_ with me?

Suddenly, there’s an onslaught of volleys—one right after the other—while he continues gripping my tail firmly. He alternates: aiming for one cheek, then my sit spot, then the other cheek, then my sit spot, then he cups my butt and thighs with an open palm to spread out the tingling pain. But before I can even take a breath, he starts over. So I hear four slaps in a row, loud enough to make my ears twitch, and I feel a sudden stinging pain, but when he rubs me there's an overwhelming rush of pleasure—suddenly interrupted by four more loud spanks, more stinging pain, followed by even more pleasure—and they all blend together until I can’t distinguish pain from pleasure anymore. Plus, the way I’m bouncing on his lap rubs the bristled fur on the base of my tail the wrong way, and that causes immensely pleasurable sensations as well. The assault leaves me panting, sighing, purring, gasping for breath.

It’s so confusing—and it feels so _good_ —tears stream down my cheeks, and my cock is straining and obscenely wet against his thighs—and I am nearly at my limit when he finally stops.

When he stops, he just simply spreads his open palm against my ass, holding it there for a moment. It’s tormenting because I am so close to coming.

_I need release._

“Ah— _please_ ,” I beg, my voice quiet and submissive. I am so desperate. My feet are on the floor now, and I’m on tip-toe with my legs spread, pressing my butt into his hand desperately. I feel so eager, so vulgar. I don't understand my response, and my body is flushed, covered in goosebumps. I just need a _little_ more, though!

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson? Will you be able to submit to me?” his low voice purrs in my ear. He sounds a little breathless, too, which makes my heart leap.

“Yes, sir,” I whisper eagerly. “Please.” I really can’t take anymore. I will do _anything_ for him at this point.

“We shall see. Stand up and disrobe.”

 _What?_  

I slowly stand up, and when I do, I remember my yukata was only pulled up, not removed, for the duration of this punishment—if that's what this was.

“Go ahead.”

Slowly, I obey. I untie the obi and drop it to the ground, and then I slip out of the yukata, letting it fall off my shoulders. My entire body is flushing with embarrassment, my ears are pink, and I find I'm unable to lift my blushing face. My abdomen and hips are pink from rubbing against his lap.

“Raise your face, little one. Look at me.” His voice sounds tender.

I’m ashamed, but I meet his gaze. I’m standing before him, completely nude, breathing shallowly, more aroused than I have _ever_ been in my entire life—except perhaps after that experience with Verg. Even in spite of the pleasure I felt, my ass is feeling awfully warm right now, especially my sit spot, and I'm tempted to rub it a little. In fact, I stop my hands when I realize that's what they are doing.

“You are beautiful. You are my companion. There will be times I want to see you _just_ like this. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I enjoy looking at your body—especially when you are in this state. I want to see you lose yourself just like that—and you took your punishment very well. I’m proud of you.”

His words of praise make me feel funny, so I look back down at my feet, and then _away_ from my feet because when I look down, I can’t help seeing my raging hard-on. It's right _there_ , taunting me, embarrassing me, and demanding immediate attention. I try to use my tail to cover myself, but it just won’t stay still. It’s too damn eager. Shit. I sway lightly on my feet and glance up at my master once more hopefully.

Raising both eyebrows slightly, the corners of his mouth curving slightly, he beckons to me, and my heart gives another leap.

“Come to bed. Let’s see what we can do about that.”

Turns out, I do respond rather well to physical punishment. I have no problem submitting to him now, and I find my attitude is quite improved.


	9. Fluffy School - Kaltz x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a non-con spanking from the Fluffy School Days series. A little background: our main characters are both in high school, Kaltz is the teacher. This series is my first attempt at writing consensual stuff, but this is not a consensual interaction. Corporal punishment in schools (in Sisa) is, of course, a thing.
> 
> Konoe's POV. They've come in an hour late to class because they were... messing around, and that started the day off on the wrong foot.

Rai can’t seem to keep his hands off my tail. I try to keep it still. I’ve coiled it up and tried sitting on it, but it breaks free and starts waving around like it has a mind of its own. This is getting annoying.

I give an exasperated sigh, and I hear a quiet chuckle behind me.

“What.” It’s whispered lowly. “If you don’t like it, stop moving. I’ve told you. It’s only natural for Ribika to give chase to moving objects—especially things that move so tantalizingly.”

“I’m not—” I start, speaking louder than I intend, and I’m interrupted by Kaltz-Sensei.

“Konoe, did you have a question?”

“Ah, er, no, sir,” I lower my ears and face to my desk in shame. I hadn’t realized I’d spoken so loudly. I’m terribly embarrassed to have interrupted class. It was terribly rude of me.

“I know you’re new to our class, but in the future, please raise your hand and wait to be called on if you'd like to add to the discussion,” Kaltz says.

“I’m sorry, sir.” My tail droops, and I feel many sets of eyes staring at me. I’m so embarrassed—I _hate_ drawing attention to myself! Kaltz continues the lesson, and I struggle to take notes, trying to ignore Rai’s continued near-abuse of my tail.

Suddenly, a folded piece of paper lands on my desk, startling me. It makes my fur puff out in surprise. I didn’t see where it came from nor who threw it.

As surreptitiously as possible, I open the sheet and flatten it out on my desk, trying to make it look like a part of my notes. It reads,

> Konoe,
> 
> What is going on with you and Rai? Are you two an item now? Why were you late this morning? Did you spend the night at his place? Come on, spill! I want details!
> 
> —Tokino

I do _not_ want to get caught writing notes in class! What’s he thinking? I look over at Tokino, who sits a seat behind me and the row to my left, and he is grinning from ear to ear. I shake my head back and forth as if to say, _I’m not talking_.

“Passing notes in class, Konoe?” I hear a low voice behind me, almost in a whisper.

“N-no, I’m n-not—”

“Konoe-kun.”

I look toward the sound of the voice—the front of the room. Kaltz is looking at me sternly.

My ears flatten fearfully. I really _wasn’t_ being very loud this time. Does my voice just carry very well or something?

“I’m sorry, sir,” I apologize immediately.

“Is there a problem?”

“Um, n-no, I was j-just—”

“If you don’t mind, I have a class to teach. Did you have a question?”

“N-no, sir,” I say, and I feel terrible. I try to keep the tears out of my voice, but this is almost too much.

"Do you need to be excused?"

"Uh, no, I'm fine—"

“Then shut your mouth and lend me your ears. You will be quizzed on this later. This is your _last_ warning.” His warning certainly sounds stern and I feel firmly scolded.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I repeat miserably.

“Your voice carries awfully well,” Rai whispers, stroking my tail gently, trying to encourage me. I find it overwhelming, and it doesn’t help me feel any better.

I concentrate on my notes, ignoring Rai’s touch as best as I can, and I notice Kaltz is keeping a sharp eye on me. Every time he looks up, he looks in my direction. Why doesn’t he notice Rai messing with my tail? I don't even feel like I've _done_ anything, and I feel slightly annoyed.

I flinch when another note lands on my desk with a soft thud, this time from my right, making all my fur fluff out in surprise. Kaltz turns around from the board and looks at me carefully.

“ _Konoe_.”

“Sir?” My voice quivers slightly, fearfully. _I haven’t said or done anything!_ I think desperately.

“What is that? On your desk?”

“Um, I don’t know, sir.” My ears could not droop any lower, and I lower my face as well. To my dismay, footsteps approach my desk.

“What is this?” Kaltz points at the folded up note on my desk, and I feel the blood rushing to my face.

“I-i don’t know. It i-isn’t mine. It just s-sort of landed here,” I say lamely. To my horror, he leans down to pick it up. I hear a giggle from two rows over, on my right. _That voice_ —I glance over toward the sound—and I see a flash of sky blue. It’s Aoba! Did he throw this? Is he _trying_ to get me in trouble?

“Wait!” I beg, reaching out to grab the note away from Kaltz, but he stops me with a very direct gaze.

“So it _is_ yours?” he asks sharply.

“Um, n-no. Someone threw it on my desk. I don’t know whose it is or what it is,” I try to explain. It sounds like a really lame excuse, now that it's coming out of my mouth. Even if I _knew_ it was Aoba who threw it, I probably wouldn’t tell on him, I realize. I sigh, resigned.

“I see.” Kaltz unfolds the piece of paper and reads it. His eyes widen, and he looks at me, his eyes blazing. His voice is sharp, but even and quiet, which makes him even scarier. “Konoe. I know you are new to this school. But our class time is precious, and I won’t have it interrupted by your shenanigans. Please, join me at my desk.”

My heart starts pounding in my ears. What is going on? What is this? I stand up and walk to the front of the class.

“There is a time and place for everything. I realize the mating season is around the corner, and you are young with your whole life ahead of you. However, I would ask you to respect the short time you have with me for learning.” I hear a few cats tittering in laughter at his remarks about the mating season.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.” My voice is very quiet, and I cannot look up at him. I hate being in front of the class. I hate standing here like this. I can't imagine that this could get any worse. I feel like I might throw up.

“Place your hands on my desk, please.” Kaltz’s voice is very calm, a surprisingly icy tone dripping from it. “You are not to move from that position until I say you may.”

I do as he requests, realizing too late what is about to happen. Wait—can he _do_ this? Is this allowed? Corporal punishment? Is _that_ what this is?

I see him open a desk drawer and pull out a ruler. My stomach drops to my feet and my breathing picks up. My own _father_ has never hit me—not even as a child—I’ve never been spanked in my _entire_ life. His reasoning would be that I’ve never done anything to earn myself a spanking. So what the hell is going on here? This cannot be happening!

“I’m sorry I’ve had to do this so soon after your arrival, Konoe. But you did not heed my first two warnings. Please raise your tail and keep it out of the way. I don’t want to injure you unnecessarily.”

I can hardly breathe, bent over in front of the entire class. Is he about to _spank_ me—with a _ruler_ —in front of everyone? This is _humiliating_! I hear another titter, and I’m sure it’s Aoba’s voice.

“I will give you ten strokes. As this is your first infraction, I won’t make you count. But if you move your hands from this position, or if you lower your tail, I will start again from the beginning. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I say miserably.

“Spread your legs wider so you will be able to withstand the blows,” Kaltz says, almost kindly. That frightens me even more. Exactly how hard is he planning to hit me?

I obey, and I lift up my tail, which twitches back and forth nervously, despite my best efforts to coil it up at the small of my back. My face is lowered and burning—my ears feel hot—and they must be bright red. The fact that I am up here at all is so humiliating and embarrassing—I’m _never_ going to open my mouth during class again, I _swear_ —I don’t care how distracted or annoyed I am!

Then, the first blow hits—centered directly on the seat of my pants—and it makes a loud smacking sound. My ears flinch, and at first, it’s just a cringe-worthy, embarrassing sound. And then—oh, my gods—a tingling, burning sensation radiates from where the ruler connected with my ass, and I can hardly remain standing. _It hurts._ My knees nearly buckle from the pain.

Before I can breathe, I hear the second stroke, this one slightly lower, right where my legs and ass connect. Even over my trousers and underwear, it hurts even more than the first. It’s a burning stinging pain, and a small yelp escapes my mouth. I try to bite it back immediately and end up biting my tongue in the process, and the third stroke is already connecting with another loud noise. The third is centered more on my left cheek, making my left foot reflexively kicks up off the ground.

“Maintain your position or I will begin again,” Kaltz warns.

The fourth smack is centered on my right cheek, and I work hard to keep my leg from lifting up off the floor. However, the fifth blow—loud and clear—is right against my sit spot again, and I cry out in pain, my entire body shifting forward from the force of the blow. Tears leak from my eyes, and I’m terribly humiliated and mortified. My knees are shaking and weak, and I feel like I might collapse. Only half-way through and I feel like I might throw up.

I cannot _believe_ the entire class is watching! _Rai_ is watching—and my heart hurts—when the sixth blow connects lower than my sit spot, connecting with my upper thighs, and I nearly scream in pain. I quickly forget who is watching when I feel my skin heating up with pain underneath my clothes, and I squeeze my legs together.

“Konoe, maintain your original position,” Kaltz sounds tired, but stern.

I quickly struggle to spread my legs, just in time for the seventh blow, which is another mean smack to the top of the back of my thighs. I cannot stop my tears, as much as I try to stifle them. The pain wraps around to the front of my legs and into my groin. A loud sob leaks out of my mouth at this point, much to my distress. The eighth blow comes down hard against my sit spot once again, jerking my body forward again, and I can feel my ass jiggling. I hope it isn’t as noticeable as it feels, though the fabric of my pants feels awfully tight, and my ass feels swollen and hot. The pain radiates even further now—into my legs, into my stomach, into my groin, and even down to my knees.

“Your _position_ , Konoe!” Kaltz snaps.

“I’m so sorry!” I plead through my tears, trying to force my legs apart once more.

The ninth swat comes down against both cheeks, and it is so loud it hurts my ears. My ears twitch and I try, unsuccessfully, to stifle my sob. By this point, my claws are drawn and dug into the wood of Kaltz’s desk. The final blow is another cruel blow to the backs of my thighs, and it almost connects with my sit spot as well. I am weeping openly now—in pain and total and complete humiliation, and I urgently try to quiet myself.

“I don’t like to use corporal punishment, kitten, but you did not need either of my warnings. Can I count on you for good behavior for the remainder of the day?”

I nod my head quickly, eager to please, and I reply, “Yes, sir. I’m so sorry, sir.”

I’m not even sure exactly what I have done to deserve this punishment—except that someone else threw notes on my desk.

“You may take your seat.”

I keep my face trained on the floor when I return to my seat, though I can see—even in the corner of my eye—Aoba is smiling brightly. My heart is still pounding loudly in my ear and my breath is ragged. My eyes are blurred with tears.

I wince when I sit down, and it’s painful. It hurts to sit on either cheek, and I realize Rai is not playing with my tail anymore.

I am _so_ humiliated, I hardly know what to do. It takes a little time, but I manage to get myself back under control. I have just finished drying my tears, and Kaltz is just turning around when another note lands on my desk, again from my right.

My fur fluffs up in fear. I know he saw it.

“What is this? Wasn’t that enough to teach you your lesson?” While his voice is still even and calm, Kaltz actually _looks_ angry now. His facial expression didn’t change earlier, but _now_ , he’s definitely angry.

“B-but it’s-it’s n-not m-mine!” I protest, my breathing suddenly picks up again and my heart starts racing in my ears. “ _Please_!”

“It’s on _your_ desk, Konoe.”

I resist the urge to burst into tears when a low voice rings out behind me.

“Kaltz-Sensei, it isn’t his. It was thrown there,” Rai says. “He didn’t _do_ anything. He can’t help it if others students throw notes onto his desk.”

“ _Who_ threw it, then?” Kaltz asks, his voice low and hard.

The class is silent.

“Whose note is this?”

“It was Aoba,” a quiet voice says. It takes me a moment, but I realize it’s Asato, the dark-haired cat who pulled me into the alley a few nights ago. I’m terribly thankful that he actually said something on my behalf.

“Class, read through chapter 3 in your books till I return. You two are coming with me,” Kaltz says.

 _Wait a minute. Why do I have to go if I haven't done anything?_ I start to panic, but there isn’t anything I can do. I’d _never_ disobey an adult, and I've never been in trouble before. Not like this! What am I supposed to do? This really wasn't my fault! What can I do?

“I didn’t _do_ anything!” Aoba says, but he is trying hard not to laugh. What the _hell_ is so funny? I want to know!

Once we get outside the classroom, Kaltz grabs both my arm and Aoba’s and starts walking, briskly dragging us behind him, and I have to practically run to keep up with his pace. When I turn to look at Aoba, he has a crazy grin plastered on his face. What the hell?!

“I teach because I enjoy passing knowledge on to the next generation. I won’t have my precious class time taken up by your nonsense,” he grumbles.

My body is shaking—I’m scared out of my wits—and I realize we are being taken to the headmaster’s office. Outside the door are several chairs, and I’m pressed into one, wincing, since it still hurts so much to sit.

“Sit here and wait,” Kaltz growls. He knocks on the door and enters. He closes the door behind him.

“Huh, you’re pretty scared, aren’t you?” Aoba says, looking at me, that wide grin still on his face.

I’m appalled. How can he be so carefree? I’m angry with his attitude, plus—was it really _his_ fault that I was punished earlier? Yes, once I was talking to Rai, asking him to stop messing with my tail—but I didn’t pass _any_ notes!

“That was impressive,” Aoba continues. “You'd better believe our _entire_ class has _unbelievable_ hard-ons right now—and everyone will go home tonight, jerking off to that scene—Konoe being spanked in front of the class! Seeing you up there like that, struggling to ‘maintain the position’—even _I_ was impressed. You were pretty damned sexy. And you cried! You actually _cried_. Was that for real? Jeez. You really should _thank_ me, Konoe.”

“Wh-what?” My voice comes out as almost a gasping sound. I rub my ears, thinking I must have misheard his words. What is he talking about?

“Oh yeah, it was _hot_. You have the _perfect_ ass for spanking. Everyone in the entire class has wanted to see it since the first day of school, and now, their dreams have come true! I think Kaltz-Sensei has ever only used corporal punishment on _one_ other student, _ever_! The only thing better would be is if you’d gotten it _naked_ —which is probably what comes _next_ , you know. And _I_ may be the only one to witness that scene, and I’ll probably get it, too. But _totally_ worth the price if I get to watch you! That was so incredibly _hot_! I wonder what he will use? The paddle? The birch? A belt? Gods, I can’t wait.”

To my shock and horror, I see the blue-haired cat stroking himself over his trousers—and indeed, he is hard.

“That’s disgusting,” I say, looking away to hide my blush. Is he kidding? He’s got to be kidding.

“Wait—you’re acting as though you’ve never been spanked before! Could it be your father never raised a hand to you?” Aoba is out of his chair now, trying to make eye contact with me. “Oh, my gods, that’s even hotter! Was that your _first_ time?”

I can’t help myself. My fur fluffs up and I growl at the blue cat. Why is he teasing me? He _liked_ the fact that I was crying in front of the class?! I _refuse_ to be a source of amusement for him!

“Fuck you,” I hiss angrily.

“And your very first time—you provided jerk off material to the _entire_ class! You’re going to become the stuff of _legends_ , you know? You should be _proud_ of yourself!” He's hovering over me, filled with joy. What the _hell_ is wrong with this cat?

“Stop it! Shut up!” I growl again. “Get the fuck away from me!”

“Aww, you poor little kitten—and your poor little virgin ass! I can’t _wait_ for what’s coming next—it’s totally worth getting in trouble if I can see _you_ punished, too!”

“Fuck _you_!” I nearly shout—just as the door opens and Kaltz comes back out.

“Boys!” Kaltz yells. My ears flatten in fear, and my fur fluffs out in surprise. His timing could not have been worse—he _heard_ me, cursing, growling and hissing, and he sees my fangs bared and claws drawn, though Aoba is out of his chair and in my face. “I don’t know _what_ the hell is going on between you two, but you are _both_ in for a serious attitude adjustment! Don't show your faces in my classroom again until you are finished here."


	10. School Days - Konoe x Razel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pulled from my first attempt at a lighter fanfic, School Days in Sisa. Konoe is a student, dating his fencing instructor, Rai. He is having trouble with other teachers at the school. Konoe is new and doesn't read well. Razel has kept him after class from some extra "tutoring."
> 
> If you aren't familiar with Razel, he is a demon.

“Please see me after class, Konoe-Kun,” Razel taps me on the shoulder just before the bell rings, indicating the end of the class.

I lower my head into my arms, resting it there, completely discouraged, as the literature instructor waits patiently by my desk, watching as the other students gather their belongings and clear out of the classroom.

Tokino walks by my desk and gives my shoulder an encouraging squeeze. He whispers, “Good luck, Konoe— do your best, OK?” But even his usual enthusiastic attitude tone doesn't hide the fear in his voice. He certainly wouldn't want to be in my place either, kept behind after class with this terrifying instructor after my embarrassing first performance.

My stomach hurts. This was only my _first_ class at this school. Are they _all_ going to go like this one? If so, I should just give up now. I’ve _completely_ humiliated myself. I knew I wasn’t very good at reading, to begin with, and I really _did_ do my best. Razel-Sensei called on me first to read aloud in class, and I made a complete fool of myself; I was stuttering and stammering—I was a nervous wreck. He was _very_ displeased.

I was nervous about reading in front of the class, but in addition to my anxiety, many words were unfamiliar, so I had to sound them out. That takes time. Clearly, I just need more practice! Apparently, my best isn't nearly good enough to satisfy this demon of an instructor. I mean, he is _literally_ a devil. 

Razel leisurely walks to the front of the classroom and leans against his desk, examining me thoughtfully, as soon as the rest of the students have cleared out of the class.

“You have a break in your schedule now, don’t you, Konoe-Kun?”

“Yes, sir, I do,” I say miserably. I’m really ashamed of my performance in class. “I’m sorry, Razel-Sensei. I did try my best, and I _want_ to learn to read as well as the rest of your students. I think I just need more practice.”

“I am aware of that,” Razel says, keeping his eyes on me. I feel him looking at me, but I don’t dare raise my eyes. I keep them lowered on the hands on my lap. This instructor scares me. There’s something ferocious seething beneath that calm exterior. “It's clear to me you need extra help. I considered assigning a student to tutor you, but you’re _so_ far behind I’m afraid only _I_ will be able to provide the incentive you need to catch up. Two sessions extra per week should suffice.”

What? _He_ is going to tutor me _himself_? The thought alone is terrifying. I don’t even like being alone in the same room with him. He _really_ frightens me. I want to get out of here, and I glance up at the door. If I didn’t have to show up at his class on Wednesday, I’d bolt right now. I try to come up with an excuse to get out of this extra session.

“Um, aren’t you terribly busy, though? I’m sure I could—”

“Children should lower their ears and obey,” Razel states. “Be quiet when I’m speaking. I'm offering to help you, Konoe-Kun. You should be grateful.”

Instantly, I shut my mouth. I really do _not_ want him as my private tutor. I won’t be able to handle being alone with him like this, and my body breaks out in a nervous sweat.

“Let me see your class schedule. Bring it to me.” He remains standing at his desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Without delay, I rifle around in my bag and pull out the paper listing my classes. Then I get up from my desk and bring it up to the front of the class, my ears submissively lowered and my tail drooping gloomily between my legs.

“Let’s see,” Razel sounds thoughtful. Peering through reading glasses, he compares my schedule with his, which is listed in a small black book. “It looks like the best days for me will be today after class and Wednesdays, also after class. We will meet for an hour each time. It will use up your break, but you simply must get caught up. Having you decoding words instead of reading smoothly is _unacceptable_. You will fall behind in your other classes before long since you won’t be able to keep up with the coursework. This is an urgent matter, Konoe-Kun, and I expect you to do your best.”

"Wouldn't it be possible for me to spend that time reading on my own? I hate to be a bother to you. You seem like such a busy person, and I'd hate to take up your valuable time with my problems. I could return to my own room at use the time to read on my own," I suggest helpfully (and rather recklessly).

"Konoe-Kun, I don't like to repeat myself. I am offering to tutor you myself because I think this is a service only I can provide. Why don't you show a little gratitude? I don't understand your reluctance here. Is there something wrong with me tutoring you myself? I don't frighten you, do I?" Razel takes my chin in his hands while he is talking, forcing me to meet his gaze. I feel like a small child while he does this. It's belittling and intimidating, and it increases my fear exponentially.

“Yes, sir—I mean, no, sir—I mean, I apologize. I-I understand,” finding myself stammering again, I sigh dejectedly. I’ve _never_ felt more humiliated in my entire life. But really, I never had a choice. I have always lived alone, and there was no one to teach me after Mom died. After that, I kept busy trying to survive that I didn’t have a chance to practice what she taught me. Razel even heard this at dinner last night. Thinking about it, as he heard my story last night, did he single me out deliberately today in class? I feel like I was set up to fail, to be humiliated in front of the other students. Why would he do that?

“We will start extra lessons today,” Razel states authoritatively. “The sooner you catch up, the better off you’ll be in your other classes as well. You should be aware I’m much stricter on my tutored students than I am in my classroom, so be sure to be on your best behavior. Students learn best when they suffer physical consequences from their failures. They tend to be much more motivated that way, I find.”

“Yes, sir.” _Wait a minute._ Did he say _physical_ consequences? What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?

“One hour should be plenty of time to practice your skills, as well as increase your motivation, which I think is your main problem. Konoe, you already have the correct skill set; you merely lack the proper motivation to put it to use. I’ll start the timer now.”

He reaches into his desk and pulls out an hourglass and a ruler. He sets both on his desk, turning the hourglass upside down. The sand begins to trickle into the empty bottom bulb. “Please retrieve tomorrow’s assigned reading and bring it to my desk. For your own comfort, leave your blazer at your desk. You won’t need it.”

I obey, keeping my ears lowered. With a certain degree of self-consciousness as well as heightened anxiety, I remove my blazer and hang it over the back of my chair. I feel a dark sense of foreboding, but what choice do I have now? I can’t just leave, can I? I feel like I might be in actual danger. What kind of “physical consequences” is he referring to?

“Stand here at my desk, please, and hold the book open with both hands so I can read along with you and assist if necessary.”

I place the book on his desk as requested, having to bend over his desk to hold the book open. This position my body is in—it’s humiliating, and I feel more than a little vulnerable. My anxiety starts to rise even further, and I realize my body is quivering. I notice the ruler is no longer on his desk. Is he holding it? Is he going to measure something? Did he just put it away? Perhaps he's going to use it as a pointer? That's probably it. I try to take a deep breath, but it comes out shaky and uneven.

“Open it to the assigned reading.”

I open the book as he requests with trembling fingers. I'm really nervous now, and my mouth is very dry. He is standing awfully close to me. My heart is pounding loudly, and I can feel my pulse in my throat, and it's so loud it's almost ringing in my ears. I think I should sit down. I start to feel a little light-headed like I might faint.

“I-I th-think I would feel more comfortable reading at m-my desk,” I stammer. “Please, Sensei. I feel light-headed and dizzy like I might pass out.”

Razel ignores me. “Begin your assignment, reading out loud, please. You will practice until the hour is up.” His voice remains very calm.

“ _Please_ , Sensei,” my voice trembles, too, as I look up at Razel from where I’m standing. “Would you mind terribly if I sat down at my seat instead?”

Razel touches my chin gently, and I flinch away from his hand. “In fact, I _would_ mind, Konoe. Didn’t you hear me when I said children should lower their ears and obey? You need to remain at my desk to be under my _direct_ and total supervision. No more delays, please. _Begin_ the assignment.”

I take another shaky breath and start reading slowly, puzzling out the words as I go, but still trying to make my voice flow as smoothly as possible. The novel is _The Incredible Journey_ , written by Sheila Burnford. The first page is a poem called, “The Beasts,” written by Walt Whitman. The first two lines go like this:   

> I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contain’d,
> 
> I stand and look at them long and long.

However, I stumble over the word “placid.” I don’t recognize the word, and as soon as I stumble, Razel uses the ruler, which he's been holding in his hand, to slap me on the ass.

The smack comes as quite a shock, and even over my trousers, it hurts like a son of a bitch. At first, my brain doesn’t process what’s happened in the least—I hear a loud slapping sound, which makes my ears flick back toward the origin of the noise, and then suddenly, my ass stings. I yelp and my body jerks, my tail fluffs out fully in surprise and pain, and I _completely_ lose my concentration. Only _then_ do I fully realize what’s happened.

I am instantly flustered and embarrassed—especially since I'm leaning over his desk. Is _this_ what he meant by physical consequences? Is he going to do this—actually _spank_ me—each and every time I miss a word? What the _hell_? How is _that_ going to help me learn anything? All that is going to do is humiliate me even more than I already am! Plus, my feelings are hurt—I feel wounded, treated like a child! He just _spanked_ me with a ruler, for gods’ sake! What if someone comes in, or hears me yelling from the hallway? I’m nearly an adult, and I can’t keep my voice down from the pain!

“Wh-what—what was _that_ for?” I ask. I’m furious, rubbing my ass, and I’m glaring up at Razel, who returns my angry look with a cool and collected gaze, as though nothing is out of the ordinary.

Razel takes hold of my chin once more and says, “I’m teaching you to read. This is my tried and true method, Konoe-Kun. You see, each time you stumble on a word, if you receive a painful stimulation, you will eventually be motivated to _stop_ stumbling. Do you understand?”

“What? You're crazy! That won’t help me learn! I just don’t know what that word is, because I’ve never _seen_ it before!” I’m actually _really_ upset now, and I’m raising my voice. He has _no right_ to lay hands on me! Plus, I’m _terribly_ flustered. I don’t like other people touching me—especially not like this. This is just too degrading and strangely intimate.

“Perhaps you need things to be a little _more_ painful then? Because that can be arranged. I was going _easy_ on you since this is our first session together. I can make things more painful if that is what is needed.” His calm voice really grates on my nerves, and now he’s _threatening_ me? What the fuck? I need to get out of here!

“I’m _not_ doing this!” I yell, grabbing the book. “This is _ridiculous_! Fuck this!” As I start walking back to my seat, he grabs me by the collar. He is _much_ stronger and faster than I expect. He pulls my face up to his, close enough to touch his nose to mine, but he still doesn't raise his voice.

“Don't you _dare_ speak to me with that vulgar tone! But _yes_ , you most _certainly_ are doing this. Haven’t you read the rulebook yet? Instructors have _absolute_ authority over the students at this school. You are _my_ responsibility, and you need to learn to _read_. _Start again_. You have most of the hour left. Go on.” 

He physically returns me to the desk—easily and violently slamming my body against it—my hips are going to be bruised, I'm sure of it—this time bending me over it completely pressing my upper body flat against the top. He opens the book to the poem I was just reading and shoves it in front of my face, grabbing me by the hair, his other hand pressing down firmly on my lower back, holding my body in place.

The hand pulling my hair is painful, and this violence is making me want to defy him even _more_! Rage seethes in the pit of my belly as I stare at the page in front of me. I press my lips together tightly in defiance. I am _not_ going to do this. I will _not_ read. I will _not_ do this. My ears flatten against my head in defiance, and my tail fluffs up boldly. My claws are drawn as well, holding the table firmly.

The ruler comes back down over my ass—harder still—hard enough to squeeze a few tears from my eyes, in fact—and a small desperate sound leaks from the corners of my mouth.

“Continue with the assignment,” Razel speaks calmly.

Smack, smack! Twice more, these blows aimed at the sensitive spot where my ass and legs meet, and stinging enough to make me press my own body into the table to try to escape the pain. Tears slip down my cheeks, and a few pained groans escape my mouth, and I bite the inside of my lip, tasting blood.

Lower still, the calm voice repeats, “Continue the assignment.”

Smack, smack, smack, smack! A volley of four blows—aimed at the back of my thighs this time—takes my breath away—I've never been hit there before, and it stings! I squeeze my legs together, which raises my ass up even higher, and I hear a true sob escape from my mouth.

Gods, maybe I should just do it and read. I can’t keep this up. This is way too painful. Why am I resisting so much? Maybe I can't win? Maybe I should just read the damned thing and get it over with? I switch tactics midway and open my mouth, begging and pleading. I withdraw my claws and hide my fangs as best as I can, but I'm in pain, so they won't disappear so easily. My tail droops submissively between my legs.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry,” I whisper, my ears lower to a submissive position, and then I continue reading the passage. “… ‘They do not sweat and whine about their con-con-’” 

Smack! Again, the ruler comes down—just as hard as the last punishing blow, making me cry out loud, and my ears twitch. Razel waits for me to get myself under control, making sure I can hear him, before he says gently, “It’s ‘condition.’”

“... ‘condition, they do not lie away in the dark and weep for their sins, they do not make me sick dis-dis-discussing—’”

Smack! I yell again, and I don’t understand why he hit me when the word was  _correct_ this time. It _devastates_ me, actually, bringing tears to my eyes, not just from the pain of the blow, but also from the fact that he spanked me unjustly!

“Why?” I ask, looking back at Razel dejectedly. “I actually _knew_ that word!” Tears of frustration threatening to fall affect the sound of my voice, making it sound distraught and thick. “Why are you punishing me if I managed it on my own?”

“You weren’t reading smoothly enough for my preference. I want to train you to read smoothly and quickly, and not decode like you are currently doing. That is our objective here,” Razel says, his voice still calm and almost tender. “Please continue.”

“… 'discussing their duty to God. Not one is dis—’”

Smack! He doesn’t even give me a chance to figure out the word, and I cry out again. “It’s ‘dissatisfied,’ little one,” he says, still in a calm, quiet voice. His hand brushes over my ass, smoothing all around it over my clothes, which makes me shudder—like he’s trying to distribute the pain to the rest of my body. It’s an almost affectionate gesture, and I _hate_ it.

“... ‘dissatisfied, not one is demented with the m-mania of owning things, not one k-k-k—’” 

Smack! I scream this time, and both my hands fly up to rub my butt, but he grabs them and forces them back down to the desk.

“ _Please_ —I can’t—”

“You _can_ , and you _will_. This is your job as a student. You will keep your hands where they belong, on the desk, please. The word is ‘kneels,’ as the ‘k’ is silent before an 'n.' Continue.”

Miserably, I continue, trying to keep my hands on the desk by the book. “... ‘Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, not one is re—’”

Smack! Another yelp is pulled from my mouth, and fresh tears finally spill from my eyes and down my cheeks. This is hopeless. I don’t even protest. What’s happening here? “It’s ‘respectable.’” I don’t have a choice except to keep reading. 

“... ‘Not one is respectable or—’”

Smack! “‘Industrious.’” I’m sobbing now, making it difficult to understand the words I am reading. What’s the point of this?

“… 'industrious over the whole earth. Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, ‘Songs of Myself,’ 32.’” 

I break down, sobbing loudly, with unrestrained weeping. This is too much—absolutely humiliating—too painful—I can't make myself submit to this degrading behavior. I don’t think I can do it anymore. I look at the hourglass, and it’s not even one-quarter full. Oh, my gods! 

“Turn the page, little one,” Razel says. “You haven’t finished the assignment yet. You are to read through the first chapter.”

“ _Please_ , can’t I at least catch my breath first? _Please_.” I'm crying so much it's hard to understand my words at this point.

“Turn the page,” Razel says, terribly kindly, but I still can't seem to obey.

Suddenly, my upper torso is once again violently shoved against the table, knocking the wind from my lungs, right in the middle of a sob—and I hear the sounds my belt buckle clinking. Terror shoots through my entire being at that sound, my ears perking up in horror and fear. I feel as my trousers are forcefully unbuttoned, unzipped, and then unceremoniously yanked down to my knees, while I’m pressed against the table. Razel has stripped me bare—my underwear as well—leaving my lower half exposed and nicely presented.

“When I ask you to do something, I expect you to obey _immediately_. I asked, not once, but _twice_ , and you disobeyed. What do you suppose the consequences of disobedience are in my classroom, little one?”

I expect him to be angry, but his voice hasn’t changed at all. Not even a little bit. He is still speaking in a calm, collected voice. It’s frightening—so frightening I’m afraid to look at him. I keep staring at the book in front of me, my breath ragged with fear, and I’m frozen in place. However, I gulp loudly when I feel a warm hand on my chin, tilting my face back, straining my neck at an unnatural angle, forcing me to meet his bright blue eyes once more.

He wants me to see him ogling me—my face _and_ my body—I watch as his eyes travel first over my face and then crawl down my back and over my exposed buttocks and bare legs. I flush in embarrassment. I feel my ears burning in shame, and I can't bare any more humiliation, fresh tears burning my eyes. I really don’t want to be exposed in front of him, and my ears can’t lower any further, my tail is drooping listlessly. Why is he doing this? Is this really supposed to help teach me to read?

“ _Please_ ,” I beg. “I’m sorry. _Please_! I only was trying to—“ But he doesn’t let me finish.

“It’s a little too late for apologies now.”

Is this all because I can’t read?

“ _Please_ ,” I beg, and I feel fear rising when I sense his body coming closer to me. “ _Please_ —I can’t— _Please_.” My knees are shaking, and my tail is quivering in fear. I expect to feel that ruler coming down against my bare skin at any time now, and I know it's going to hurt so much more. My breath is coming in gasping breaths from my mouth, almost panting or wheezing. I squeeze my eyes shut in preparation. “ _Please_. Have mercy on me.”

Instead of the ruler, I feel a hand—it’s not at _all_ what I expect—very, very hot, dry, and large, cupping my ass gently. His other hand has slipped up under my shirt and is pressing down hard against my lower back, holding me against the table so I can't move. Razel steps up close behind me—close enough so I can feel his trousers brushing the bare skin of my thighs. I hear him whisper down into my ears.

“Your skin is so smooth and soft,” and to my utter horror, some of the calm has disappeared from his voice now, replaced not with _anger_ , but something that sounds like _desire_ or _passion_. Oh, my gods. Is he turned on right now? Panic creeps up into my chest as I feel him pressing me into the desk. Is he going to... gods, am I going to be _raped_? Right here in the classroom? My wheezing breaths quicken to short pants.

“During class today, all I could see was this innocent face, staring up at me. Your eyes—they are  _asking_ for this—simply _begging_ for this—begging to be _broken_ , to be _taken_ , to be _ruined_ —and _violently_. So tell me, is that what _Rai_ did to you last night? I know he wanted to. I recognized the look in his eye when he dragged you out of the dining room last night, and I can _smell_ him on you, even now, you know. Did he perhaps drag you out into the forest and take you on the grass? Did you struggle? Did you put up a fight?”

His hands rub over my ass, which is still burning from the punishment from the ruler, but his hands are weirdly hot. I feel them slipping in between my cheeks, which gives me the chills, slipping down around my hips, and to the front of my thighs, threatening to touch my cock. I don't want him to touch me. I don't want this! I don't _want_ this! 

“Let me tell you, Konoe, I think I would be _better_ for you than him. I could teach you things you don’t know about yourself... _interesting_ things about yourself... pleasurable things... teaching you about the pleasure to be found in pain, for example...”

He continues running his hands over my bare skin, making me shudder. I want to run, and I want to get away from him, but I can’t move my body. I'm frozen in fear, and I am afraid of what he is going to do to me. Why can't I move?

“This is _definitely_ virgin territory, isn’t it? The way you’re acting—I can tell—he didn’t take you, though you want it. You’re _begging_ for it. Ah, so tempting! You deserve to be punished just for tempting me in class today!”

What is he talking about? I’m so scared I can’t say a thing. I’m terrified. Then, he spanks me with his hand—slapping me hard enough that my hips bump up hard against the desk. He hits me right where my legs and ass meet, and I suddenly burst into tears—I’ve had _enough_ of this _._  He is truly scaring me, and I don't understand what is going on. Through my tears, I start to beg.

“ _Please_ , stop this! I’m not asking for anything! I haven't asked for _anything_! I don’t understand what you’re talking about, and you’re _hurting_ me! _Please_! _Please_ , stop this! Please don't touch me!”

But he doesn’t stop, and instead, brings his hand down again, smacking me loud enough to make my ears twitch. At this point, I am crying hard enough that I don’t hear it when the door opens. But I do suddenly hear a _second_ voice, low and familiar—seething with rage.

“What the _hell_ are you doing?! Get the fuck away from him, bastard! This one is _mine_!”

I see a flash of silver out of the corner of my eye when suddenly, Razel releases his hold on my body.

There’s a tussle behind me, hissing and growling, scratching and clawing, and I realize there’s an actual _fight_  within three feet of my body. It's a mess of silver hair and fur mixed with black and flame red hair. The door to the classroom is crowded with students from the hallway, peeking in and getting a load of what is going on. I don’t even know what that is, but it looks like Rai barged in and is scratching and biting Razel.

I’m unable to move, however—my legs are frozen in place—and the students in the hallway are getting a load of my mostly naked lower half, which is still frozen in place, unable to move. 

The fight behind me lasts less than two minutes, and I hear Rai mutter, “I _know_ you smelled my scent on him, you bastard. That’s why you singled him out. This one is _mine_. I told you at dinner last night. If you want to teach him, go ahead, but don’t you fucking _touch_ him. Stupid son of a bitch.” He roughly pushes the devil back down to the floor and stalks over to the desk. 

When he approaches me, he roughly pulls up my trousers, without bothering to zip them up. My ears lower completely when I notice his fur bristled, his claws drawn, and his fangs bared. Rai looks truly frightening, and he looks angry at me, too. 

“You stupid cat! Why didn’t you get out of here? I told you yesterday—this expression of yours would be your downfall.” Rai’s voice is _full_ of exasperation.

He picks me up by the waist, throws me over his shoulder, and walks out of the room. My ears and face are still burning, and my butt still hurts pretty bad, too. And my face is still wet with tears.

He makes his way through the crowd of on-lookers, ignoring the other students as though they weren’t even here.

I'm so glad to see him, however. But part of my brain wonders if I didn't just fly from the frying pan into the fire, especially with the look I saw in Rai's eye. He really looked upset.


	11. School Days - Konoe x Rai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow--I guess Rai spanks Konoe in this series, too. Apparently, I write a LOT about spankings.
> 
> An angry, jealous Rai brings his Sanga back to his apartment (after seeing Konoe dirty dancing with another student), and Konoe stands up for himself this time—which works out a little bit better than the last time Rai went into a jealous rage. However, after some negotiation and some fooling around, they find out that they are both badly in heat.

My body is shivering by the time we enter his apartment. I don’t know if it’s fear or desire—maybe it’s a little of both—but in any case, I think I may be catching a cold. I've been hot and had chills all day, plus I have these weird muscle aches. Rai sets me down on his bed, somewhere in between roughly and gently. His fur is still fluffy, he is growling, and I can still see fangs peeking over his lips. Haven’t we done this before, when he found me with Razel-Sensei? Is he jealous again? I do not want to go through this a second time!

Last time I remained silent, and it didn’t go well. He did _all_ the talking. So I decide to be proactive today. I figure a casual conversation might be good, so I open my mouth.

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance! We should do that more often. You’re _really_ good.” I mean the words I say with all my heart—I’m not only trying to calm him down.

“Do you think if you flatter me you can get out of what you have coming to you?” His voice is low and sharp.

“What _exactly_ do I have coming to me?” I ask timidly. I feel slightly nervous. “Weren’t you the one who suggested I go dancing with my friends this evening?”

Rai’s eyebrows raise when he hears my question.

“Is _that_ what you were doing? _Dancing_? You and the blue cat were _dancing_ out there in front of the entire school?”

“Well, of course, we were! What else would you call it? What did you think we were doing? It was a school-sponsored dance, after all, wasn’t it?” I have to confess I’m slightly confused at this point.

“Konoe, he was _undressing_ you—physically _undressing_ you—on the dance floor.”

I feel my ears heating up. “N-no, that isn’t what he was doing! Not at all! I would never allow that! He just loosened some of my clothing so it was easier for me to move. That’s all!” Gods—is _that_ what it looked like? Maybe Aoba _was_ taking advantage of me...

“He was _kissing_ you and marking you with his scent—in public!” Rai continues. “Why do you think he’d do that?”

“Because we’re friends? I don’t really know—” Was he doing that? I thought that was part of the dance as well.

“Bakaneko!” Rai suddenly barks, startling me and making my ears lie flat. I flinch from the harsh tone, as he approaches the bed. “Friends do _not_ mark each other. That’s something cats do to those with whom they are _exclusive_ , with whom they are _attached_ , as proof of _ownership_. It means, keep your paws _off_ , this little one is _mine_.” He gently strokes the bite on my collarbone when he says these words. “You do _not_ belong to Aoba. He was using you to try to capture Koujaku’s attention.”

I look down at my hands nervously. Rai sounds upset, and he is frightening me.

“You belong to _me_.” His voice softens, and I feel his fingers move to my ears, stroking them softly. “The _very last_ thing I wanted to see this evening is some other cat dry-humping you in front of the rest of the students.”

“Wh-?” Again, my shocked words are stopped by a finger to my lips.

“You’re going to try to tell me _that_ was dancing?” He tilts my face up to his, and indeed, that _is_ what I was going to say. “Answer me this, little one. Do you not _understand_ that you are mine? Or do you not _wish_ to be mine?”

My mouth falls open.

“Answer me.” His voice is calm, no longer raised, but cool and calm. “I gave you a key. Is that not enough? What else do you require? Do you need me to take you all the way in order for you to understand? I think it would be better to wait for you to go into heat, but I could easily be persuaded after your performance this evening.”

“Take me all the way?” I ask. I don’t understand what he means. “Take me all the way where?”

Rai leans in close, and I think he’s about to speak directly in my ear. Instead, he nips the thin skin of the tip—ouch! I pull up my shoulder, but he pushes me down on the bed, straddling me, and sucks my entire ear into his mouth. I hear rough breathing—getting less controlled and more ragged by the minute—and he releases it slowly—pulling it out of his mouth, very, very slowly.

Then he whispers, “I _mean_ , do you need me to _fuck you_ properly and soundly—love _every part_ of this little body of yours—even _before_ you experience your first heat? I’m happy to do it if that would help you understand my intentions toward you. You are _mine_.”

After following his words with a thorough lick of his tongue, which delves deep inside my ear—leaving me quivering on the mattress—not just from the feeling of his tongue, either—but from the words he’s just said—he pulls away slightly to look at my face. Oddly, his tongue has beautifully illustrated the meaning of those words, making me shiver with a delightful mix of anticipation and fear.

“Are you unwilling? Do you not wish to be mine? Are you in love with the orange tabby? Do I have competition?”

I am having a difficult time believing my ears.

“No—there is no one else,” I insist.

“Then— _why_? Why are you doing this?” The silver cat above me rumbles softly, an irritated tone in his voice.

“Doing what?”

“Raising my ire! You are purposely setting yourself up in situations where you will be hurt, or groped, or dry-humped on the dance floor in public!” Rai sounds completely exasperated.

“That—well—I thought it was dancing!” I say rather lamely. “Aoba was sad and depressed about Koujaku—he said he wouldn’t have a relationship with a student before the mating season—and he just pulled me out on the floor—”

Rai grabs my chin and forces me to look at him directly. “‘Those are all pathetic excuses. How could you not realize that those moves—what _you_ were doing with _your_ body—with that blue cat—and you even shared your _light_ with him! What, will you sing for him, too?” Rai’s voice lowers to a growl.

He sounds... _jealous_. Incredibly jealous. It... _pleases_ me, and it brings a smile to my face.

“Rai,” I say softly, unable to hide the gentle smile on my face. “Rai-Sensei, is it possible that you were simply jealous of my attention?” I think I understand it now.

That pale blue eye narrows sharply, suddenly. He is _not_ pleased with my deduction. “Do you find this situation humorous?”

“Well, l was _only_ dancing—and I can’t control when that light comes out. Of course, I’d rather save _all_ of that for you—and I _did_ try to pull away—but Aoba is tricky. And part of me was happy to help him,” I admit openly, still finding the situation slightly amusing.

“Excuse me?” Rai’s voice sounds in disbelief.

“Yes. I love to dance—it feels good—and Aoba succeeded in getting Koujaku’s attention, after all, didn’t he? Partly because of me? I think he may be a Sanga, too, by the way.”

“Do you?” Rai’s voice is starting to calm down again, regaining control of his ire. “So you regret _nothing_ about this evening’s activities, then?”

“I don’t,” I set my lip stubbornly. “I think it’s more a problem of _your_ jealousy than my having done anything wrong. You should just get over it.” I feel a huge sense of relief washing over me, once I get these words on the table.

“Get over it, huh,” Rai sits up, moving to the side of the bed, hanging his long legs over the side of it. I don’t really want him to leave me, though. “Just get over it. That’s a _great_ idea. I think _you_ can even help me do just that.”

I hear him sigh, and I sit up eagerly, perking up my ears. Help him? How?

“Ah, so _now_ you want to help,” Rai glances at me out of the corner of his eye, somewhat mischievously.

“Of course,” I say, my tail swaying eagerly behind me. “I’d do anything for you.” I’m a little surprised at how quickly those words fell from my lips. I didn’t mean to actually say them out loud and am a little embarrassed.

“ _Anything_?” Rai’s eyebrows raise again, and I detect a slight upward quirk at the corners of his lips, as well as a change in the tone of his voice. I quite like the honeyed tone he is suddenly using—it sounds pleasant to my ears. He pats the mattress next to him. “Come.”

I eagerly crawl across the bed to sit next to Rai where he’s indicated, wondering what it is he wants to discuss when suddenly, I again _completely_ lose my orientation. Rai has grabbed my body and flipped me over quite roughly, pulling me across his lap.

“If you’re willing to do _anything_ for me, then surely _this_ will satisfy my heart,” I hear it whispered low in my ear.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I’m slightly afraid, but he sounds like he’s teasing. I feel a hand caressing my clothed behind.

“I saw this part of you wiggling so temptingly on the dance floor this evening,” Rai has leaned over and is whispering directly into my ear. “‘Perhaps if I taught it a little lesson we would both feel _so_ much better. Don’t you agree?”

He wants to _spank_ me? What the hell? But his hand feels so amazing—he is petting me, stroking me, caressing me, and my back arches, my tail fluffs out in pleasure, my butt is trying to press up into his hand. He knows how to make a touch feel perfect.

Again, I’m surprised at the heat in my body—whenever I get close to him, it feels like my body gets really hot, and I start sweating almost uncomfortably. There’s a strange achy itch inside me as well, making my heart beat faster—I felt it all day at practice, thinking I must have just been sore from yesterday, but now, I think I may be getting sick.

“What kind of lesson, exactly?” I ask timidly. I’m not sure I like being in this position, lying on his lap like this. I feel so vulnerable.

“I was thinking the _traditional_ kind,” he answers, cupping my ass firmly, but not spanking me just yet. “Perhaps that might help you learn to keep your body to yourself, or to _me_ , its true master.”

Master? He thinks _he_ is my body’s true master? What the hell is he talking about?

Although, I’m enjoying his soft caressing quite a bit, and I’m not moving. I could leave. I could get away if I wanted. Why don’t I move away?

“You _did_ say you’d do _anything_ , didn’t you?” Rai confirms, rather sweetly.

“Um,” I start—and then I feel a hand at the base of my tail, grasping firmly, pushing me down hard against Rai’s lap. My dick is still hard from when I was dancing earlier, and I’m sure he can feel me straining against his thighs. His hand starts to move, stroking the base of my tail in fast, firm movements, which sends _delicious_ waves of pleasure into my hips and waist, making the tip of my tail stand up straight and my fur fluff out. Embarrassingly, he pulls strange sounds from my mouth as well—groaning, gasping, indulgent sighs, which I work hard to stifle.

“I’ll take that as an affirmative, then,” I can hear Rai smiling smugly behind me, much to my irritation, but there’s nothing I can do—the caress feels amazing, and I’m helpless.

“Please,” I beg. This is different from when he’s played with my body before—I feel very different. I feel much more sensitive than usual and my body is much hotter—maybe from dancing, but somehow, there’s a desperate ache in the core of my body, and this touch is fanning a flame deep inside me. I notice his scent is a lot stronger, too—it’s a comforting, warm, and powerful smell, which adds to my own current enjoyment.

“‘Please _what_?” Rai asks, sweetly, not changing anything about the pace of the touch. He leans down and kisses my ears, and I feel his tongue enter one—I’m so overwhelmed by the touch to my tail that I don’t defend my ears, and I hear it squishing around wetly—so lewd—like he’s fucking my ear with his tongue—and my dick starts to drip.

“Ah— _please_!” I plead again. The touch to my ears is almost overwhelming, but instead of avoiding it, my body moves toward him, as if it longs to be touched more. What is wrong with me? What is happening to my body?

“Please— _more_?” Rai asks. “Why don’t you be a good boy and take off your clothes for me?” The touch slows to a stop. “Go on—strip—I’ll wait.”

What is he asking? And wait—what am I doing? But I don’t hesitate. I need more!

My heart is fluttering in my chest—it feels like a butterfly, and it’s beating so hard and fast I’m afraid it might fly right out of my mouth. I stand up, my fingers trembling. 

“Can you even stand? Your knees are shaking! Go on now. Be a good boy and do what I asked. Then... we will _continue_.” Rai looks at me with a wicked grin, and his glance alone sends shivers down my spine.

I try desperately to unbutton my shirt—it takes so long—and Rai asks, “Do you need a little help?”

I step a little closer—and his scent washes over me once more—it’s much stronger today than it was yesterday, and he smells _so_ good—I inhale deeply, burying my face in his hair while he covers my hands with his.

“Your entire body is trembling, poor kitty,” Rai looks at my face, brushing my bangs out of my face. “Are you afraid of your punishment?”

I wasn’t—not at _all_ —at least not until Rai said something about it just now—and I suddenly start to worry. What punishment? Because I was dancing with Aoba? I must look nervous because Rai brushes my ears gently and smiles.

“Don’t worry. I _promise_ I’ll make it worth your while.” He works quickly to unbutton my shirt, and then presses my chest briefly, nudging me softly, urging me to take a step backward. “Please, do continue.”

He keeps his eye on me while I slip out of my shirt.

“Be sure to fold it neatly. You don’t want it to get wrinkled, of course.”

I obey and set it on the chair behind me. Next, I unbuckle my belt and hang it over the back of the chair.

“Konoe.”

I look up.

“Bring me the belt. It might be required.”

My ears droop, but I obey, quivering slightly. The _belt_? Uh— _why_? What is he going to do with my belt?

“Don’t worry! I told you _not_ to worry.” 

Next, I unbutton and unzip my pants, slipping them down my waist and pulling them off my legs. I can’t meet his eye when I fold them neatly and add them to the clothing on the chair.

I only have my undershirt and underwear left. I pull my undershirt off next, fold it, and add it to the pile. Only then do I look at Rai. Is this enough?

He tilts his chin expectantly, a slight smile on his lips. I feel my ears burning freshly as I slip out of my underwear and add them to the pile. My ears flatten slightly against my head, but my fur is fluffed up, my tail bristling.

I return to Rai and I’m not sure what to do, so I kneel at his feet. It’s a good way to hide—I can push my tail into my lap this way, and I don’t feel so exposed. This is _embarrassing_! Why am I doing this?

There’s a soft touch to my ears—Rai’s hand—and he pulls me into his lap, lying face down like I was before. He begins to stroke my tail again—and also caresses my butt with his other hand. It’s even hotter than it was before—even though I’m naked now—I can feel his hands on my skin and he is so gentle with his fingers, and my dick is brushing against the soft fabric of his trousers. He has me firmly pressed against his thighs.

“You are such a beautiful cat.” The words are murmured softly, but directly into my ear—I can hardly hear for the numbing pleasure running through my hips and waist and the lewd noises leaking from my mouth.

I wonder—could I come like this? Could I come from tail play alone? Suddenly, my tail is pulled up sharply, lifting my body almost completely off of Rai’s lap, and I hear the sound before I feel the sharp, stinging slap on my butt—Rai has spanked me. It takes my breath away, but it doesn’t _exactly_ hurt. It sends shivering tingles up my spine and down the length of my tail, which he releases just as suddenly, letting me settle back into his lap. Mysteriously, the shivering follows wherever his hand caresses—across my butt, right where he slapped, hovering along my sit spot, and down my thighs.

I made a rather strange grunting sound—well, maybe more like a yelp—when he spanked me, and I feel my ears heating up. I put both hands in front of my mouth, as though to try to shove the noise back into my mouth, but of course, it’s too late. But the shivering—it’s _extremely_ pleasurable—and my yelp turns into more of a squeal and then a sigh.

I feel his hand massaging my tail quickly again, and as firmly as he was before, and I start to purr loudly—and there’s something different in my purr this time. It’s not a regular purr. This is a wet-sounding purr—it sounds like I’m underwater. Maybe purring from comfort is different from purring from... whatever this kind of pleasurable feeling is. Does this count as sexual pleasure?

“Do you _like_ this?” Rai whispers softly in my ear. “I have something I need to tell you, and I want to be sure I have your _full_ attention. Do I _have_ it now?”

Is that what we are doing now? I feel another quick yank on my tail, pulling me up off his lap just briefly, and there’s another quick slap to my butt—and I can’t suppress another yelp. It isn’t painful—it isn’t painful at all. In fact, when I fall back to his lap, my back arches, and I realize it’s because I’m trying to press my body—my ass, specifically—back into his hand. I want him to touch me _more_. I can’t _stand_ this teasing. My body is _craving_ his touch.

My body feels hot—really, really hot—and perhaps it’s from all the dancing I was doing earlier, but I can’t seem to do anything about it.

“You’re still trembling. Is it in fear, or are you just overly excited?”

“Don’t ask me things like that!” I mutter into the mattress, my ears burning hotly. I feel a hand stroking them softly.

“Ah—your ears are blushing—it must be excitement then. So do I _have_ your full attention?” His hand is still stroking my tail roughly, and my back is arched uncomfortably, straining backward. I try to control my breathing and my heavy gasping. “Can you quiet yourself for a moment while I’m speaking to you, little one?”

“Ah!” I gasp loudly when he spanks me again suddenly. “Please—it would help if you would slow down for a moment—”

“But don’t you _like_ it?” Rai asks. “You’re purring, you’re trembling, you look like you’re coming undone beneath my fingers—just from me touching your tail. Wouldn’t you be miserable if I stopped?” 

“Well, maybe—but I can’t concentrate or respond without making strange sounds when you do this to m—Ah!!” My words are interrupted when he pulls up my tail and spanks me again. I realize the spanking is getting more gentle—more of a caress—and it’s the pulling of my tail that is affecting me like this. 

My teeth start to chatter, and it’s embarrassingly audible. The clicking sound can be heard in the room, and Rai looks at me strangely. 

“What’s that noise?” He is quite concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Y-y-yes. I’m f-f-fine.”

“What is that clicking sound?” Because he’s so much taller than me, he can easily lean over and see what is wrong with me, but I bury my face in my hands. “Show me. You said you’d do anything, didn’t you?”

“W-w-wait. Th-this is g-g-going to m-m-make you h-h-happy? Th-this is wh-wh-what w-w-will p-please you?” You’ve got to be kidding me. He pulls me up on the mattress and lies down next to me, facing me earnestly.

“Show me your face. I love your face.” I turn my head to him rather pathetically, and he takes my face in both his hands.

“You’re shivering? Are you cold?”

“N-n-no.”

I feel his hand stroking my face and then moving to my chest. He smells my neck. To my amazement, he gives a slight shiver when he sniffs my neck as well—not as intense as mine, but certainly, it’s there. And when he brings his face in so close—I notice he _smells_ different.

“Ah—you smell so good,” the words tumble out of my mouth. “I mean, you _always_ smell good to me, but today—it’s different. Your scent is even stronger, and you smell somehow _irresistible_ to me.” His scent is so intoxicating I think I might pass out.

“Konoe, do you feel hot? Does your _body_ feel hot?”

“Yes—I’m burning up—but it’s like I have a fever or something,” I reply. “Maybe I caught a cold?”

“This is no cold,” Rai says. “Do you have aches? A headache perhaps? A restless feeling?”

“Yes—wait—how did you know?”

“Ah, well, this explains your behavior with Aoba, then,” Rai says. “Possibly, it explains why you sang to me today of all days, as well. I thought as much when you woke this morning, but I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Say anything about what?”

“Konoe, do you know why the school put on the dance?”

“Why?”

“It’s to celebrate the first day of the winter mating season. Today is the first day. I think you are in heat. It’s your first time, isn’t it?”

I look away from Rai. “Um, yes. But since my mother died so young, and I was isolated from the other cats in my village, I don’t really know what to expect.” I glance up at Rai from under long lashes, hoping I haven’t disappointed him. I feel like a disappointment.

“I see,” Rai says quietly. He doesn’t look disappointed. He looks... quite _excited_ , actually. Why? About mating season? I perk up my ears. “I can teach you what you need to know. Twice a year, Ribika go into heat after a certain age. Your body will suffer these symptoms, letting you know it’s time to get together with a compatible cat.”

“Wait—so all those cats were in heat, suffering symptoms just like me?”

“Not exactly. Some may have been and were probably looking for a compatible partner. Some probably took matters into their own hands, while others already had a partner. Symptoms vary over the next seven days or so. There is a wide variability, and to me, it seems like you’re fairly sensitive—I mean, just from playing with your tail just now...”

I blush hotly when he says that. I would _love_ for him to do that some more.

“I think you understand, but there is a way to make the symptoms go away.”

He looks at me directly.

“Would you like me to help you? When I spoke of waiting until your body was ready, this is what I meant. When your body is in heat, it hungers for this, and you can do the things that you want without experiencing pain.”

I wonder if he is talking about the difference in our size.

“Do you mean because we are different in size?”

“Yes. It shouldn’t hurt. If you leave it to me, I can make it better for you.”

Wait—is he experiencing symptoms, too?

“Are you feeling the same way?” I ask. He doesn’t look uncomfortable. But if he is—is that why he was angry?

His pale blue eye looks at me. “Since this morning. I could smell your scent this morning.”

“Is that why you worked me so hard in class?” I ask. 

“No,” Rai answers. “I wanted you to _sing_. I was trying to get you to _sing_. But that aside—do you want me to... alleviate your symptoms?”

He is asking me for my consent. He isn’t just _taking_ me. I’m rather surprised. Shocked in fact. I find myself staring at him for longer than I intend.

“All right,” I say shyly, as he strokes my back and shoulders gently. “You said it isn’t going to hurt?”

“It shouldn’t hurt. Although, I might not be able to stop once I get started,” Rai whispers, “so are you sure?”

His words sound a little dangerous to me, and a slight chill goes over my shoulders. 

“Do what you like to me,” I say—equally as boldly, making direct eye contact. Hell, if there is a time when that massive thing isn’t going to hurt me, I’d better take advantage.

His eyebrows raise and his lips curve into a smile.“All right then. Where's your belt?”


	12. School Days - Konoe x Arbitro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arbitro is the headmaster, yes, really, in this series. How did he get the job? It's Sisa, of course.

Rai walks me to the headmaster’s office. The headmaster is a strange-looking cat, I have to say—his name is Arbitro. He’s dressed in an expensive-looking white suit with a fuchsia shirt and lime-green tie, wearing a fuchsia feather boa around his neck to finish the dramatic look. He has golden blond hair and has matching fur on his ears and fur.

When I enter, he is sitting elegantly, resting his chin on his hands, elbows on his desk.

“Ah, if it isn’t our newest student and Sanga, Konoe!” his sonorous voice rings out. “Please, come in! I’m pleased to meet you. Come in, have a seat, make yourself comfortable. Thanks for bringing him by, Rai. I’m sure our meeting won’t last the hour if you’re planning to pick him up.”

The tone of his voice—the sound of it—leaves a strange slimy sensation in my ears, and I suddenly grab onto Rai’s sleeve reflexively. I don’t mean to be a bother, but I’m afraid of this cat. I don’t really want to be left alone with him. I think it’s because I feel his eyes creeping over me—but Rai takes my hand and kisses it gently.

“You’ll be fine. I’ve already spoken to him. He just wants to get to know you and talk to you about your schedule. There hasn't been a Sanga at this school for some years, after all. I’ll be back before the hour is up, all right?” Rai murmurs softly into my ear and then nips the tip—right in front of the headmaster. 

I get a whiff of Rai’s comforting scent when he presses my head against his chest, which calms me down a little. He leads me over to the couch and pushes me down into its leather cushions, and I comply. Then I watch as he saunters out the door. He smiles at me over his shoulder as he leaves.

Arbitro stays where he is, examining me with those creepy blue-green eyes of his, and it’s quiet for a few minutes.

“That silver cat is quite something, isn’t he?” Arbitro comments. I’m staring at my hands, which are resting primly in my lap. I have one of my legs curled up underneath me and the other on the floor. I hope it’s all right to sit on the couch like this, but it’s how Rai pushed me into it, and I haven’t moved.

At the mention of Rai, I look up and meet his gaze.

“Yes—I was quite surprised he took to you so quickly—although, I’m _sure_ it’s because he thought you were going to blossom into a Sanga, and Rai has always been quite thirsty for power, you see,” he continues in that odd sing-song voice of his.

Is that true? But how would anyone know about me in the first place? _I_ didn’t even know!

“With your heritage, many of the instructors were excited to have you here—and I’m sure Rai made a special effort to corner you alone on the first day you arrived.”

I can’t help making a small gasp of surprise—because what the headmaster is saying is actually true. I remember quite specifically—I was in the bathhouse, and it was deserted, _except_ for Rai. Was that deliberate? But how did he know about me in the first place? What exactly is it that these instructors think they know about me?

“It’s true, isn’t it, kitten? Where did you first meet him, your silver instructor?”

I don’t want to admit it, and I look down, saying nothing.

Suddenly, I feel something touching my chin—and I’m shocked to find it’s the headmaster’s hand. He has moved quickly—and silently—from behind his desk over to me, without my hearing a thing. He points my chin up so I have to meet his gaze. My ears flatten at the touch, and my stomach flops over uncomfortably. What is going on?

“Where did Rai first meet you, kitten? It _wasn’t_ at dinner, was it? That was the _second_ time, wasn't it?”

“I-i-it was a-at the b-bathhouse,” I stammer. I don’t like the feeling of his hand on my face. It’s creeping me out. Why is he touching me? 

“When I ask you a question, you need to make _sure_ you answer me, kitten. It’s only _polite_. I’m on your side, and I’m here to _help_ you. It's my job to see to your _education_. Do you understand?” He says this in a much quieter tone, and it’s definitely a threat. 

“Y-yes, s-sir.” He releases my chin and backs away a little, crossing his arms and leaning against the front of his desk, offering me a thin smile.

“So—he knew you’d be arriving from your home in Karou, tired from your journey, and would want to clean up from your travels. He must have even calculated what time to be there, just so he could meet you, don’t you think?”

“I-I don’t know,” I answer honestly. I don’t think Rai is like that. Does he really only want me for my song? Somehow, that makes me feel pretty terrible.

“He took _possession_ of you even _before_ you could make friends, settle in, meet your teachers, whatever—and that is what ultimately has caused all these issues with your other teachers, who were jealous that he grabbed your attention so early on. Did I hear there was yet another incident?”

“Um,” I hesitate.

“I’m asking you a _question_ ,” Arbitro says, his voice turning harsh. “Answer me!" 

“Yes,” I reply quickly. “W-with my friend Tokino. He got himself involved with two instructors and then involved me as well when he sought my help.”

“I see. Your presence has caused a great deal of uproar, Konoe. I don’t know what to _do_ with you. However, from your parentage, it’s to be expected.” He sounds both slightly exasperated and at the same time resigned. Am I really that much of a problem?  
  
To this, I actually look directly at his face again. My _parentage?_ What does he mean? I’m confused. I have no idea what he’s talking about!

“You look confused, little one. What seems to be the problem?”

“Y-you keep referring to my parentage as though it’s a problem. I never knew my father, and my mother died when I was a child. I’ve been on my own for so long, and I have no living family. I don’t know what you mean. I didn’t know I had the ability to be a-a-a Sanga until I came here—it seems everyone knows _more_ than I do.”

“I see,” Arbitro says. “Perhaps—I could tell you.” There is a long pause. I flick my tail impatiently, straining to keep quiet.

“Would you, please, sir?” I ask, as politely as I can manage.

“It seems that you have a _lot_ of demands, Konoe. You’ve already asked me to change your literature teacher, which I have done. You are _now_ having problems with your biology teacher, Verg, who seems to be using you as a test subject in class—although his claims are somewhat different.”

“What did he say?” I interrupt. 

“He said you helped yourself to some of the herbs he was displaying in class. Sometimes that happens with high-responders—they simply cannot help themselves. It’s all right if that’s what happened, Konoe. I understand.” 

“But—that _isn’t_ what happened! You can ask anyone in the class! He forced my mouth open and made me eat some of it!”

“Konoe, I don’t appreciate your interruptions. It’s rude. Now, I hear you need to change your physical education teacher as well—because you involved yourself in some sordid affair for some unknown reason and you fear reprisal from him. And you are also demanding that I tell you about your parents? Is there anything _else_ you’d like?”

“Well,” I’m a little surprised he’s putting everything like this. Isn’t his job to serve the students? Isn’t it? “It would be nice if you could ask the disciplinary committee to back off a little. They seem to have it out for me specifically.”

“Oh? _Do_ they? How interesting. Konoe, kitten, what do you think _you_ will be able to offer me in exchange for all of these demands? I might point out that you are technically breaking school rules by being involved with an instructor here. And that in itself is deserving of punishment.”

“What?” I’m shocked to hear it. “Aren’t many instructors involved with their students?” 

“Of course, but not so brazenly and openly as you. I heard you were groping your instructor’s ass and tail right in the hallway.”

“That was _not_ my fault!” I exclaim. “In fact, I don’t even remember doing that. I had been forced to ingest a good deal of catnip and cat thyme—Verg-Sensei held me down and forced me to eat it and smell it in front of the entire class. I couldn’t even walk!” I have tears in my eyes when I’m reminded of how humiliating that was.

“You seem to have a _problem_ with authority, Konoe-Kun. Razel-Sensei told me you refused to respond to his private lessons that he so graciously offered,” Arbitro continues. “What do you have to say to that?”

“No—I mean, no, sir,” I’m confused now, unsure of how to respond. “He was _beating_ me—not _teaching_ me. He punished me severely—hitting me with a ruler—each time I tried to sound out a word—”

“What if that is his tried-and-true teaching method, Konoe-Kun? Had you considered that?”

“I did, but—”

“Kitten, you are making a lot of excuses,” Arbitro’s voice hums, and he is very close to me again. “Ah, your ears are very soft. Perhaps Rai found you attractive for reasons other than your potential as a Sanga. I didn’t realize that your ears were so soft. And despite the mouth on you, you have a very sweet voice and an adorable face.”

I flick my ears away from his touch, remaining silent and uncomfortable.

“I would like you to _tell_ me what you will _give_ me or _do_ for me in exchange for my help. Or—shall I come up with something for you?”

“Please, sir,” I murmur, quietly, and my body starts to tremble. I’m afraid of what he will suggest—terrified, actually.

“As it happens, I am quite fond of kittens your age and size—it’s why I pursued this job here, after all. And as it happens, I saw you dancing with the blue-haired kitten on Friday night. I should like it very much if you might show me some of your charms in exchange for the things I might do for you.” 

“Show you my charms?” I ask. I have no idea what he means. “Do you want me to sing for you?”

“Oh, nothing like that. It’s easier than that. I’d just like to take a closer look at you. First—let’s make sure we aren’t interrupted. I don’t want your privacy invaded.”

He gets up to lock to door to his office and closes the blinds.

My heart starts pounding in my ears. This is _not_ good. I am _scared_ —really, really scared!

“Wait—just a minute—sir,” I start to beg, and there’s a tremor in my voice.

“Oh, ho,” Arbitro says, as he walks back to the couch. “Are you afraid? Don’t be afraid. I won’t do anything to you. I just want to look at you. Come here, now.”

He takes hold of my tie and starts to loosen it, and then pulls it off my neck. Then he quickly takes me in his arms, pulling me to his chest, so my back is pressed up against him. My fur bristles in fear. 

“Ah—adorable—you have such _gorgeous_ fur!” I feel his nose nuzzling the fur in my ear—much too intimate of a touch for my taste. His hands flatten against my chest, then sweep down across my stomach, untucking my shirt quickly, moving efficiently to the buttons.

“Uh—no—please,” I freeze with terror, my body stiffening against his when I realize he’s undressing me.

“Just stay still. Don’t fight me or I will have to punish you. I wouldn’t _mind_ punishing you, though. You _deserve_ it, after all—you _have_ broken the school rules. In fact, I still haven’t decided what to do about _that_ infraction. Perhaps I will forgive you if you promise to break it off with the silver cat after this meeting?”

I look at him desperately—frozen with fear because he is touching me like this and—did he really just ask me to stop seeing Rai? _Why_? Why would he ask that of me? He _is_ in a position of power over me, but—I can’t do that!

“I-I-I don’t—I c-can’t—”

“Aww, your nervous stammering is so cute, kitten. If you think you will be _continuing_ your relationship with him, flouting the school rules, you will be required to visit my office on a weekly basis, and we can work something out between us. Then, I won’t be forced to _fire_ him, you know?” The tone of his voice is both threatening and honeyed—overlapping. 

“No! No, please, don’t fire him!” I beg, and I feel my shirt sliding off my shoulders.

“Your skin—ah—look at your skin—it’s so gorgeous—ah—but what’s this? A mark? Is this from the silver cat? He _marked_ you? I suppose I would, too, if you were mine. However,”—my body is moved suddenly and pushed to the couch, onto my back. Arbitro pulls off my belt and starts working off my trousers in that same efficient manner—“ _my_ type of marking is a little more permanent than this. I prefer tattoos or a knife to make my mark more permanent on _my_ precious little kittens.”

A knife? A shudder of revulsion shivers across my skin, making my hair stand on end, and Arbitro says, “Oh, such a visceral response from you! I’m sure I could train you to love it!”

Another shudder rushes through me at that remark, and my trousers are roughly pulled off.

“Please—stop this—I don’t want this,” I beg. I’m too ashamed, too embarrassed—this is humiliating!

“Shouldn’t you be used to it by now, little kitty? Haven’t all these other instructors and students done exactly _this_ to you—wanting to see your body—just as I am doing? That, too, is part of your parentage. You have your _father_ to thank for that.”

My father? I don’t know him—I never met him—I don’t even know his name—

“ _Shui_. His name was Shui. He was a wonderful singer, and he _also_ had a body like yours—and the exact same tempting smell—honey and orange blossom. Every one of our seasoned instructors remembers him, and our younger ones know his legacy, and they all lusted after him. It seems you’ve inherited his scent, but not his sexual prowess and interest. You seem _much_ more reserved. It’s intriguing and so enticing—or are you simply _playing_ coy? It’s adorable.”

I can feel a deep flush settling in my cheeks and chest, the blood and heat rushing into my ears as the headmaster has me pinned to the couch. Now, I’m wearing only my underwear—and I’m unbelievably humiliated. What is exactly is the plan here? I feel the tears that were on the surface of my eyes slip down my cheeks, and I look up at Arbitro.

“Sir—all I wanted was a schedule change! I fear for my safety—Verg-Sensei and Trip-Sensei are _dangerous_ , sir. Please. That is the _only_ reason I came here. I didn’t know it was against school rules to have relationships with instructors—I do not wish Rai-Sensei to lose his job. He told me it was all right—that it was common for students and instructors to get together during the mating season—please—don’t fire him because of me. I would sooner leave than get him fired—”

Arbitro’s hands come out and stroke my body—starting at my throat—on either side of my neck, and then pulling slowly down either side of my body, slowly, tracing the outside of my chest, my stomach, my waist, my hips, my thighs, my legs, all the way down to my toes. I shiver with revulsion, my stomach reminding me of how wrong this touch is.

“How _very_ like your father you are, though he was a redhead—those tempting, long locks everyone wanted to have for themselves. Even this fur—I remember—his was the same color, only reversed. How very strange—plush like yours, short and so unusually plush. When he would bristle, his would get full like a long-haired cat as well. And when he begged for mercy, he sounded so much like you. Something in his voice made me want to hear him beg, just like you do.” 

The headmaster terrifies me. My body shakes—trembles—at his touch, and I want nothing more than to escape this room.

“Please—don’t hurt me!” I beg, my voice trembling in fear along with my body. 

“ _Hurt_ you? What makes you think I would _hurt_ our school’s most precious Sanga, my darling? All I want is to come to an _arrangement_ with you. If you plan to continue your illicit relationship with that instructor, I will require something in return—and then—I will allow it. What do you plan to offer me?”

I’m still lying frozen on the couch, but realize I might be able to grab my clothes. So I try for a quick escape—but Arbitro predicts my movements immediately. He grabs me the moment I get up by the waistband of my underwear and he yanks my tail, hard.

I cry out in pain, stumble, and am instantly pulled backward.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I hear it purred in my ear. “Didn’t I already tell you that if I asked you a question, you were to answer me? Perhaps you require a little _reminder_.”

Arbitro pulls me across his lap—he’s still sitting comfortably—and I’m now embarrassingly facedown over his lap, with my upper body resting on the couch, my legs dangling off the side of his lap.

I feel his large hand rubbing my ass and the base of my tail—and I squirm with all my might to get away from him. When he said the word “reminder,” I understand _exactly_ what he means. And being in this humiliating position can only mean one thing—and I will _not_ submit to this.

“Let me go! You said you _wouldn’t_ hurt me! Get your hands _off_ of me! Stop it!” I start yelling while I’m fighting him, but my efforts do nothing.

He squeezes my legs, kicking as hard as they can, between his—and he is much taller and more powerful than me. Then, with one hand, he restrains both of my hands—I’m currently trying to crawl away, trying to pull myself off his body, grabbing the couch with all my might. He pulls them sharply behind my head and then behind my back—I feel my shoulders crack painfully, and I cry out in pain. 

“Ah, and I _won’t_ do anything to hurt you— _permanently_. Now _this_ is what happens when you disobey, isn’t it?” Arbitro pushes my hands to the small of my back and grasps the base of my tail. 

I’m crying now—sobbing in pain and humiliation. 

“Tears? Am I witnessing the tears of a Sanga? Oh, ho—I’m _honored_ , Konoe. But really, all I wanted from you was to tell me what you would offer me to look the other way.” The hand not pinning my hands is stroking my lower back, my ass, and my thighs—and it’s _so_ unpleasant and disgusting.

“Nothing!” I sob loudly. “I have _nothing_! I have no money, no talents—but I cannot let him go! What do you _want_ from me? Can’t you just expel me?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t release you from your obligations as a student here—it’s the _law_ that you receive an education, and, by the gods, we _will_ educate you, no matter how much you resist us, darling.”

His hand—ugh—it feels _horrible_ when it touches me.

“I can come up with a way for you to, er, work off what you owe, Konoe.”

“No!” I yell. “I refuse! And stop touching me! You have no right to touch me!”

Suddenly, the hand gently stroking me smacks my ass in a firm slap—it rings out loudly against my skin. He hits me right where my ass and my legs meet—and it tingles a little, but it really hurts, too. I realize he’s pulled my underwear up a little to expose this part of me—since I usually wear boxer briefs. He’s pulled up the legs to expose my skin.

I yelp, and squirm against his lap, still trying to get away.

“You are being quite resistant, despite your sweet, innocent face. I think during our weekly sessions together, it will be my goal to teach you some manners and how to respect authority, Konoe. That is—unless you _want_ me to fire your silver cat from his job.”

He spanks my ass—over my underwear this time, so it isn’t quite so loud. It’s still painful, but it doesn’t hurt as much as the first blow did. A small grunt is all that comes out of my mouth. 

“I’m going to adjust you a little first, my dear,” Arbitro says, “And we will have our first lesson. Be still for a moment.”

Like hell!

The minute he releases my hands, I start squirming to get away—but he grabs my hands again instantly, this time, pushing them against my upper back, which is amazingly painful—my arms are _not_ meant to bend this way! He pushes them higher and higher, hurting my shoulders. Plus he still has my legs pinned between his.

I scream in pain, and over my scream, I hear him whisper heatedly, as though he is thoroughly enjoying himself, directly into my ear.

“Oh, what a _lovely_ voice you have! It _hurts_ , doesn’t it? Maybe you don’t understand, Konoe. If you do _not_ obey me—if you do not lie _still_ for me this instant and submit, I will start filling out the necessary paperwork to fire your favorite instructor _right now._ Do you understand?”

Tears are flowing down my face, and I’m really scared. I don’t want Rai to lose his job—especially not because of me—but this isn’t _right_. I do not want this!

“If you understand, nod your head.”

I nod, and he releases me. He could have dislocated my shoulder. I hear some rustling behind me—it looks like he’s taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, but I don’t look. I face forward, saying nothing.

“This isn’t right,” I whisper.

“It may not feel that way to you, darling, but it sure feels right to me. And don’t you want to do something for your precious silver cat?”

I’m silent for a moment, and then I receive a sharp slap on my ass, making me cry out.

“I _asked_ you a question!” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—yes, I do, I do,” I try to answer quickly. 

“Then the answer is a simple one. Don’t resist me so much then. I’d like you to lie across my lap obediently. Come now. My legs are tired of holding you like this.”

I get up and lie down across his lap as he requests. I cannot believe this is happening. My ears feel like they are on fire, and I feel his hands brushing them softly. 

“Oh, so adorable—cute little pink ears. Your father’s blushed like this, too. Ah, and wait. I think we should prepare you a little better this time.”

He pushes the waistband of my underwear down—shoving it down below my sit spot.

“How does that feel?”

I don’t know what to say, but I have to say something. I’m humiliated and afraid.

“Terrible.”

He spanks me again—hard—on my newly exposed skin—and I jump and yelp again. A few more tears spill out.

“But—I _answered_ you and honestly!” I complain.

“This is a _training_ session, Konoe. You will address me as sir and speak only politely. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Much better. Now, keep your hands up by your head. I recommend you rest your head on them. If I see your hands back here, that will warrant additional punishment.”

Then, he starts—and it _isn’t_ just a single swat. No—he starts spanking me— _hard_ —a continuous volley of slaps, one blow after the next, so rapid that I can’t even catch my breath between yelps. Eventually, my yelping becomes a single, continuous wail, which then turns into weeping with tears. Eventually, my ass starts to burn so much that I cannot keep my hands up by my head. I need the pain to _stop_.

There is a radiating heat all over my bottom—it must be redder than my ears. It hurts and burns so much—and I am begging and pleading between my cries—and I _try_ to do it politely.

“Please, sir, stop sir! Isn’t it enough, sir? Please!” But he does not stop or slow.

Eventually, I can no longer control my hands. They fly up on their own and cover my butt, trying to protect myself.

“Oh, dear—we can’t have this now,” but the blows _do_ finally stop. I get a chance to catch my breath—but only a second. “Now, I _warned_ you. I require _complete_ obedience and submission from you. Get up.” 

I’m roughly pulled to my feet—my legs feel like jelly, and I’m trembling.

“Covering yourself warrants additional punishment for the naughty kitten who disobeys the headmaster,” Arbitro says with glee. “But I do _love_ how you tremble before me. Since you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, we will try something different. Place your hands on my desk.”

He tenderly places my hands against the desk, bending me over—my underwear is still pushed down—and I’m catching my breath still, my breath hitching in sobs from the spanking, my ass sore and hot. I feel his hand, cool against my behind, rubbing me gently.

“This is going to be much worse than my hand, I’m afraid. But I _did_ warn you. Hold on tight to that desk, or you won’t be able to withstand the blows, darling.” Why does his voice sound so cheery?

“I think ten will be enough for your disobedience. I’ll count for you today since this is your first time.”  
  
Ten what? I wonder. 

Then, a whooshing sound and a clear, bright snapping noise that makes my ears twitch—that is a dangerous sound—someone could really get hurt from that sort of noise! And then, the pain registers. It nearly brings me to my knees. I scream in pain—and before I can fully register what has happened, snap! I hear it again, and the pain brings me up to my tiptoes and make me squeeze my thighs together.

It’s absolute agony! It’s a sharp, clear pain, caused by the strap of my own belt. The headmaster has it folded in half and is whipping me with it: he whips my ass and the back of my thighs, and he aims in particular for that place where my ass and thighs meet.

Each time the strap hits me, searing hot pain rushes through my body, setting the nerve endings on fire and sending them into complete disarray. The pain flows up into my tail, down into my legs—all the way to my ankles—into the front of my legs—and into my hips and groin, making my waist feel heavy and filled with blood.

My voice is getting hoarse from my screams—and I didn’t even realize that I have started to sing my Sanga’s song in response. It hurts so much I don’t even count the blows.

“Ahh, what’s this now? Is this beautiful melody your precious song? It’s fabulous!” Arbitro purrs, and I can tell the blows are starting to slow. My melody is helping me—blurring the pain a little, helping me bear it—it’s a slight vibration of my body. I hope it’s reaching Rai, but honestly, instead of a cry for help, my song is a desperate act of self-protection. 

“Whew! You have given me quite a workout, kitten,” the headmaster sighs, pushing my hips up flush against the desk now, and I flatten against it, dropping my entire body in exhaustion. For all practical purposes, I am hanging off the edge of his desk, not leaning against it. I’m still vibrating with my song, softly, and fatigue starts to seep into my bones. My breath is panting, rough, although it’s starting to even out, and my sobs and my tears have finally stopped as well.

“I’d like to see what kind of damage I’ve done to you, sweet thing, before I send you on your way, so why don’t you just rest here for a moment? It is never my desire to hurt you, of course—I love _each_ of my students equally—and the care for your physical well-being falls to me. So let me care for you now, too.”

My ears flatten against my head distrustfully when I hear his words. “Care for me”? What does he mean?

“What are you going to do to me?” I whimper quietly. “Ah—sir? Please—no—I don’t require any care—sir.” I add the “sirs” on a little too late.

“Don’t concern yourself with it, kitten. Simply relax. I merely want to make sure I didn’t injure you too much.”

I feel both his hands on my ass—and it does not feel like a medical exam. It feels like a caress, and it’s unwanted and invasive. Reflexively, I squeeze my thighs together, cringing and squeezing my eyes closed. My tail starts to lash.

“Didn’t I _just_ tell you to relax? I’d hate to have to punish you again because you’re not cooperating and submitting to this aftercare. Honestly—I’m surprised the belt didn’t leave marks on your beautiful skin. It must have been the effect of your song. I’m glad since I’m sure you don’t want your beloved instructor to find out. How would you explain yourself to him?” 

He’s right—Rai would be furious—in fact, how am I going to pass off what injuries I have now? I try to relax, and the moment I do, I feel his hand slip in between my thighs, and slide up in between my cheeks.

I gasp—and shudder violently, feeling sick.

“Please, sir—no—this has nothing to do with—” I try to start begging. 

“Hush your mouth, little one. It’s been a concern of mine when I saw you and the Setsuran together. He’s a much larger breed than you, and that is my concern since you are in my care. I need to be sure he is _careful_ with you. I want to be sure he isn’t hurting you.”

“He is _always_ careful!” I protest. “Please, there is no need for this—please, sir—please!”

I feel his fingers pushing their way into that very private place of my body, through that tight, very much unrelaxed ring of muscle. I cry out in pain and in desperation.

“See, now, if you’d just relax like I told you, it wouldn’t be painful!” Arbitro scolds.

Fresh tears run down my face, more from the shame of being handled so roughly and intimately than from the actual pain—I _hate_ this—and the fact that I can’t do anything about it. 

I move one of my thighs in protest, and it is immediately slapped harshly. Already red and sore, burning from the spanking, that slap burns even hotter, radiating all the way to the front of my leg, and pain shivers into my tail. A strange noise comes out of my mouth.

“Relax! Settle down, and I will let you go in a moment,” his voice is slightly different now. “I think I have a _new_ idea of what you can to do for me next time—you might prefer it over a spanking— _only_  if you’d prefer. Ah—you are so warm and tight inside. I think it would be a perfect fit—when I see this fluffy tail of yours—so cute and tempting with that hooked end, all fluffy—and I could make you feel so _good_ , too.”

“No!” My voice is quivering, and I try to squirm away from him and the very idea of intercourse with him—it’s disgusting! “Please, sir—no! Please—take your hand away—stop this!”

“You would _rather_ have another spanking like the one you just had—or even worse—than let me _pleasure_ you?” Arbitro violently pushes my struggling body up against the desk, pushing his hips against mine—and I feel he is hard underneath his clothes. It frightens me. He lowers his voice, whispering. “Your skin looks so gorgeous this color, Konoe. Tell me, do you let Rai spank you?” 

“Sir, I would let Rai do anything he wanted to me!” I turn around to look at the scary face gloating over me. “He loves me and I love him—and I’m his Sanga and he is my Touga! Please do _not_ ask me to break that bond.”

“Listen to such earnest feelings spill from these plush lips,” I feel his finger squishing around inside me—and he deliberately brushes my prostate. When my body is stimulated like that, even if I don’t want it, it _responds_. There already is a lot of blood pooled in my waist from the whipping and spanking— _not_ from desire—so just that small touch makes me shiver with a terrible pleasure. But I do _not_ want it— _not_ from him.

“Stop—no—please,” my plea dissolves into helpless sighs. 

“Konoe-kitten, your pleasured cries sound so much like your cries of pain. Do you know why?”

“Ah—no—please, stop—I don’t _want_ this— _please!_ ” 

“It’s because, in some of us, those centers are very close together, and we are wired in such a way so we can’t tell the difference. You might be one of those very _lucky_ kittens.” His voice is low and threatening, and he continues moving his finger, stroking me.

“Please—ah—please—stop this— _please_!” 

“Don’t you think I should finish your aftercare _properly_ , darling?” He keeps rubbing mercilessly, even as I try to squirm away from his grip. “It’s only right that I would take care of my students’ needs. Next time, when you see me, you will remember this pleasure and perhaps change your mind. Maybe you will _prefer_ this pleasure to a harsh punishment. But it’s _your_ choice, sweet kitten.” 

“Ah—please—no,” I continue begging, and the hand he’s using to press my hips against the desk snakes around my front to grab my dick, which is hard and dripping transparent drops on the floor. He uses the liquid to stroke me smoothly—a firm touch—matching the strokes against my prostate. It’s a melting, helpless feeling—still unwanted, but my body continues to respond, nevertheless.

“You have no idea how gorgeous you look like this—you are _completely_ at my mercy. It’s taking every ounce of self-control not to fuck this gorgeous ass of yours right now, but I’ll save that till you want it—till you _beg_ for it,” he whispers his dirty words in my ear.

That will _never_ happen! I feel like I might be sick—and I’m still protesting even as I climax.

“No-no-no—please—ah!” 

“Such a good boy, you are,” he finally slides his fingers out of me—there was more than one in there, I realize. I feel violated and dirty.

“Now would be a good time for you to kneel before me, kitten, and thank me for providing you with such merciful aftercare—ah—unless you’d _like_ me to punish you more?”

In an instant, I drop my body to the floor, on my knees, and I make the lowest bow I can. My stomach feels dangerously sick. 

“Thank you, sir,” is the best I can manage. 

“Perhaps you might also thank me for allowing your silver cat to keep his job for another week. It would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it?” 

I lower my head once again, after glancing up at him through my eyelashes. My ass is still burning, and it feels cool even a short distance from the ground.

“Thank you, sir, Headmaster Arbitro, for allowing Rai-Sensei to teach at your prestigious school.”

“And for the lesson I so _graciously_ taught you.” 

“‘Thank you, sir, for the lesson in manners and obedience you so graciously thought to teach me today. I promise not to let your efforts be wasted,” I keep my head bowed demurely, but I feel my molars grinding in my mouth.

“Now, let’s get you dressed, darling kitten.” 

He pulls me up to stand, straightening my underwear after wiping me down with a towel he happens to have handy. It doesn’t occur to me till later that he pulled a towel out of his desk. Is this sort of thing a common occurrence, then? Then, he dresses me as though I’m a doll. I cooperate fully, keeping my eyes lowered unless he tilts my chin up to look at my face.

He tells me to remain seated on the couch while he makes a few notes on my schedule. 

“What a good kitten you are!” He brings the schedule to me, pressing it into my hands. “Now, I’m sure I’ve impressed the importance of returning to me next week, but if you should fail, the consequences will be dire.” 

Lifting my chin in his hands once more, he asks, “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

He lowers his mouth to mine and drops a gentle kiss on my lips. 

“Soft—even softer than they look! Next week’s session depends entirely on you, you recall. I think we could have some fun together.”

Another few fresh tears spill from my eyes.

“Now, now—no crying before Rai gets here.” He takes a moment to kiss the tears from my face. “I’d hate to worry him unnecessarily. You’re doing this for _his_ sake, after all. Just wait quietly for him to return.”

“Yes, sir,” I say quietly. I shift slightly, my ass still slightly sore. I feel miserable, helpless, and a little desperate.


	13. Cinderella-Konekochan - Konoe x Leaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this alternate universe of Lamento BTV, we meet Konoe as a young boy of 10, who is living with his father, Shui. He lost his mother at birth. Shui is a great dad, a successful and well-known traveling musician, who one day brings home a new partner and husband, Leaks. Shui passes away when Konoe is nearly 16, and he suddenly gets a new adopted brother, Firi, in his household. Things don't look well.

All this changes the day Leaks loses an important four-week long experiment. Firi has been roughhousing in the laboratory instead of doing his assignment, while the magician was out for his morning walk. Konoe is cleaning the dishes in the kitchen and preparing lunch. When he hears shattering glass, he rushes to Firi’s side immediately, trying to see what might be saved from the experiment.

Leaving his dutiful stepbrother to clean up the mess, Firi runs out ahead to meet his adopted father coming home from his walk.

“Uncle Leaks, I hate to be the one to tell you this awful news, but when Konoe was cleaning in your lab today, he knocked over your precious experiment. We tried to save as much as we could—and it was an accident, of course, he meant no harm—but I wanted to tell you what happened since Konoe is so upset.”

While the loss of his experiment _was_ irritating, it wasn’t the end of the world. After all, it was something Leaks planned to repeat anyway. Although—it was unusual for Konoe to be cleaning his laboratory. Usually, he waited until Leaks asked him to do it, and Konoe never swept without permission.

Upon entering the house, Firi yells out, “Don’t worry, Konoe, Uncle Leaks is just fine. He’s confused as to why you were cleaning his office this morning since you usually ask permission first, but he isn’t mad at you about the experiments.”

Konoe mops his brow—it is an unusually warm spring day, after all—and looks up slightly confused, glancing between Firi and Leaks.

“Papa-Leaks, I’m glad you’re not upset. I was only in here sweeping up the broken glass after it fell. I didn't want anyone to get hurt.”

To his comment, Firi puts a hand to his chest and cries out as if Konoe had struck him. “What are you saying, Konoe?”

“What do you mean?” Konoe is confused, and so is Leaks, looking between the two boys.

“Are you accusing _me_ of this disaster? The disaster _you_ caused with your clumsy sweeping? After _I_ went out to lessen the blame for you? How _could_ you?!” Firi's red eyes flash with indignation, and he flips his platinum bob over his ear, a motion Konoe recognizes immediately. He does this whenever he lies.

The small blonde cat’s mouth drops open, his caramel-tipped ears twisting in confusion. “But Firi, it was _you_ who broke the glasses. You told me you were roughhousing when you accidentally knocked it over! I only came in to help clean up your mess!” Konoe tries to keep the irritated tone out of his voice. This must be another of Firi’s pranks!

Leaks walks up to Konoe, grabbing him by the chin roughly, his deep voice booming in anger.

“I _wasn’t_ angry about experiments, Konoe! But I’m _infuriated_ that the son of Shui, the most honest and authentic person I have ever known, would  _lie_ to me about something as foolish as this!”

Leaks has never touched him when he was angry, and while Konoe is frightened, he is also terribly distressed. Trying to keep his voice even, he manages a reply.

“I’m _not_ lying. I would _never_ lie about something so trivial. I have _never_ lied to you, so why do you suspect me now?”

Leaks grabs him by the ear, and the kitten yelps—it hurts! Konoe has never been punished like this before and fear rushes through his body. Leaks drags him into the dining room, straining his sensitive ear.

“Konoe, the only thing you have in this world is your honesty. A lie can stain your life, your home, and will bring our family to ruin. I thought you knew better!”

“B-but,” Konoe’s stammers, trying hard to think past his anger, fear, and most of all, confusion. Why would Firi lie about this? It feels like a betrayal! “I _haven’t_ lied. Things happened exactly the way I said!”

“Konoe, I hoped it would never come to this, but you need to learn when to stop. Don’t ever think that you can get your integrity back once a lie like this has passed your lips. Lying will _ruin_ you. And I cannot believe you would continue to push the blame for _your_ carelessness on your poor stepbrother!”

Looking up, he sees a yardstick in Leaks’ hand, and he lowers his ears in fear. He is afraid he might be struck. But if he admits he did it, wouldn’t _that_ be the lie?

“Papa-Leaks, I love Firi like my own brother, and I would _never_ do something like that...”

“Well, do you think _he_ would do such a thing to _you_?” Leaks returns the question.

After a small pause, he realizes he doesn't. Firi has no reason to betray him, as Konoe has treated him with nothing but kindness since his arrival. “No, I don’t, but—”

“I’m tired of your excuses. Konoe, put your hands against the table and don’t move until I say so.”

He obeys instantly. He is frightened, but he doesn't believe he deserves this treatment!

“Papa-Leaks, please—”

“Shut your mouth. The only thing that will stop this punishment is when I hear you confess your mistake and tell me what really happened.”

Suddenly, Konoe realizes he is about to be beaten with that yardstick, but since he respects his stepfather he has to comply. However, he cannot confess to something that he hasn’t done. Even as a child, Shui was very mild with him, using words rather than corporal punishment. He grips the edge of the table desperately. 

When the first few blows come down on his buttocks, thighs, and lower back, he is startled by the pain, and can’t keep from crying out. Leaks uses his full force with these blows, and Konoe fears for the safety of his person as well for the yardstick.

Tears and sobs are flowing freely by the fifth and sixth blows, and Konoe cries out, “Please, Firi, why are you doing this? Please tell the truth!”

The blows suddenly stop, and Konoe senses his stepfather approaching him angrily.

“Even _now_ you persist? You ignorant kitten. Apparently, this beating isn’t enough to get my lesson across. Let’s see what we can do to _fix_ this.”

Konoe is pulled up roughly from the table, again by his ear, making him scream in pain.

“Get undressed.”

Konoe freezes for a moment, unable to comply with such a humiliating command.

“You heard me. Strip off every last bit of clothing you have, then resume the position.”

Defeated and humiliated yet unable to disobey, Konoe unties his apron and sash, pulls off the blue shirt he is wearing, folding his clothes and setting them on the table. He steps out of his work shoes, unbuckles his belt, and removes his beige pants and underwear.

 _How am I going to get myself out of this?_ He rubs his ass and thighs, surprised he can feel the heat radiating from his skin. His tail flips around nervously.

“At least you  _obeyed_ me. I’m surprised, in fact. Spread your legs a little. When you’re ready to confess, raise your right hand, and I will stop.”

Now, when that ruler comes down sharply across his bare skin, a nauseating pain bursts through his lower body. He cries out with each blow, and also in between blows, loudly, sobbing with tears. The next blows come hard and fast and keep increasing in tempo.

“Please! Papa-Leaks— _Please_!” Konoe cries out desperately,

“Are you ready to confess?” Leaks still sounds angry, but his voice is even and calm.

“I can’t, I can’t do this— _please_ stop!”

Then the worst happens when the yardstick breaks in half over his thighs. Konoe is relieved, as painful as that blow was, making his legs shake, and hopes this will be the end of the beating.

Leaks again, “Are you ready to confess?”

“Please, Papa-Leaks, I really didn’t do it,” his breaths come in heaving sobs.

To his shock, before the last words leave his mouth, a leather strap, folded in half, connects to his already reddened buttocks with a frightening speed and force. He screams loudly with the sharp, fresh pain. He’s being beaten with his own belt.

“Confess, Konoe! Don’t let your stubbornness be your downfall! Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” 

The strapping keeps coming, and he is hanging off the table now, no power left in his shaking legs. The blows to the backs of his thighs hurt the most since they are the least protected. But the blows to his buttocks and back sting terribly as well. 

“Please, Papa— _please_ —I didn’t—”

The beating continues, and continues, and continues—the pain worsening, each blow lowering his ears, creeping into his calves, up into his shoulders, until he starts to feel a little numb. When his ears start to ring, his eyes fly open. Konoe sees Firi watching this shameful display with a derisive sneer.

“Confess, stubborn child!” Konoe's ears burn when he hears his stepfather yelling.

Konoe’s grieved heart breaks when he witnesses the betrayal of Firi smiling, and he allows himself to follow the grayness in his vision, passing out from the pain and strenuousness of the whipping. 


	14. Cinderella-Konekochan - Konoe x Leaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More troublesome times with Leaks, child abuse, non-con exam, really unpleasant groping, strapping, hairbrush spanking and caning.
> 
> God, I'm sorry, Konoe. I really do love you.
> 
> Rai is the prince in this story, of course, and he helped Konoe after his first severe beating, lending him some clothes, which are what is the source of this accusation of thievery. At this point, Konoe knows Rai lives at the castle, but doesn't know he's the prince.

The following week is a living hell for the kitten, and by the end of the seventh day of chores in his new life as the servant of his family, eating his meals separately, not being allowed to continue his lessons, and being subjected to a variety of corporal punishments, Konoe’s tender heart is reaching despair.

He tries to put a smile on his face when he brings Papa Leaks his favorite tea and biscuits, setting them next to the chair on his study, but he feels dread in his stomach.

“What do you have to say for yourself, kitten?”

Konoe can’t remember ever hearing Papa Leaks use such a harsh tone with him, nor sounding quite so disappointed with him before, and his ears twitch with fright. Has something else happened?

“I-i-i’m sorry?” He asks, tentatively, daring to peek his eyes up at his stepfather.

Before the kitten can process what has happened, his father’s hand comes down across his relaxed cheek and mouth, bringing tears to his eyes and pulling a soft utterance of shock and pain from him.

Konoe tastes blood in his mouth, touching his fingers to his swollen lips. He has never been hit in the face before—and not like this—backhanded, without warning. What was that for?

Tearfully, he stares up at his Papa, dropped shoulders, drooping ears, trying to suppress his sorrow. He waits silently to hear how he has disappointed him.

“Firi has told me what you have done.” There is anger in Leaks’ voice— _true_ anger—which is scarier still than the calm with which Konoe has suffered through the previous week of daily punishments. His heart rate picks up dramatically, for he knows he hasn’t done anything, meaning Firi may have made up another lie.

Konoe sighs softly, and with that sound, his ear is immediately grabbed.

“Don’t you sigh at me like that!”

“Ah!” Konoe nearly screams in pain. “Please, I apologize! I’m sorry!”

“I’m giving you a chance to confess! Take it now, or you will regret it,” Papa Leaks is growling softly under his words.

Konoe’s body shivers. _Confess_? To what? What could he have done that would have offended Firi? He wracks his brain. The more his thoughts race, the more panicked he gets, the more he feels like a mouse caught in a trap. Since his tail was broken, his corporal punishments have been severe, but not as bad as that first day. He has had his palms caned, was spanked by hand, was made to stand in the corner holding two pails of water without moving for 30 minutes. He is terrified now.

The tears in his eyes—and in his heart—finally spill over.

“Please, Papa, I do not know. I can’t think of anything I have done this week that could have offended Firi—I have been so careful—”

“If you have nothing to confess, then I am terribly disappointed.” Leaks stands up with a flourish and stalks over to his desk before returning to the cowering Konoe. “I want to know when this little liar _also_ became a thief.” 

_A thief?_

“I-I have stolen n-nothing—” Konoe protests, but Leaks has something in his hands.

“Where did these come from?”

Konoe’s heart stops—and his breath catches in his throat. Before his eyes, Leaks is holding the shirt, breeches, and sash Rai lent him. He has been sleeping with the clothing—in his bed—holding them tightly to his nose and against his chest—often waking with the clothing tangled around him, sometimes after rather surprisingly sordid dreams involving the silver cat. 

Where did he get those? Did Firi go through his room? Go through his belongings? And not just that—Konoe _hides_ them—he actually _hid_ them under his mattress. How could Firi have found them, just like that?

When he looks at his stepfather’s face, it’s furious.

“Boy, I know you’ve missed some of your lessons, but do you understand _whose_ house colors these are? I will ask you again, _where_ did you get these?”

Konoe cannot bring Rai into this. How will he be able to get out of this? But he will never lie, either. So for now, he keeps his silence.

“Kitten!” Leaks barks and the sound makes Konoe jump in fright. “There are public lashings for thieves in this kingdom! Especially for those who steal from the royal house! What are you _thinking_? Are you trying to bring your family down with you? Use what little brain you have, foolish child!”

“I-I d-didn’t steal them,” Konoe whispers.

“You didn’t? Are you going to tell me that a member of the royal household simply _gave_ you clothing as fine as this? Then _what_ , pray tell, did you do for him in _return_?” Leaks can’t keep the derision from his voice—and the idea, the very _idea_ that Shui’s son would be _selling_ himself at such a young age—how could he even _know_ about such a thing? Of course, a castle hunter might have corrupted him, seduced him with pretty words and promises of love—wasn’t Shui the same? Otherwise, where else would Konoe have learned such a thing? He merits so much more than the taps on the wrist Leaks has been giving him. He needs to know this is _much_ more serious. 

“Papa, let me explain,” Konoe’s eyes fill with tears. “Please, let me tell you what happened! Please!”

“Oh, you have my _full_ attention, boy!” Leaks is yelling now.

Cowering on the floor, craving the touch of Rai’s clothing—Konoe wants nothing more than to touch the soft fabric, feel it against his nose and face—relishing its comfort feeling and scent—but he doesn’t dare reach from them. He takes several deep breaths and tries to speak.

“When you sent me to the river, last week, to care for myself, Firi found me there. He teased me and stole my clothes—and my towel—everything.”

“Your stepbrother would never do such a thing to you, not while you were injured,” Leaks states matter-of-factly.

“I didn’t think he would either, but he did. I was left alone, in the middle of the river with nothing but your salve for my wounds. A cat from the royal house found me.”

“And what _exactly_ did you do to him—what did you let him do to _you_? Where did you let him touch you??” Leaks is furious—imagining another cat coming across this innocent beauty— _Shui’s_ innocent beauty—and corrupting him, full of rage and anger.

“It wasn’t _like_ that, Papa! He found me crying in the river, and he offered to share his clothes with me. He brought me back to a small cabin in the woods, shared his medicine and food with me, helped care for my wounds, and sent me home with these clothes, saying I could return them later. Nothing happened!”

Leaks goes very quiet.

“Did you tell him what happened?”

“No. I told him I was fine, and I asked him not to interfere. He doesn’t know.”

“But he knows where you live?”

“Yes—”

“You got an _outsider_ involved with our family affairs, child!” Leaks barks. “And I don’t believe that he would simply _give_ you clothing for nothing! Why? If you did nothing for him, _why_ did he give you clothing?”

“He was just kind—”

“Konoe, don’t be naive. _No one_ in the royal house is kind. That’s _not_ how they are raised.” A flash of anger shoots through Konoe’s eyes—which Leaks doesn’t miss—when he hears those words. It raises Leaks' suspicions.

“He said he’d heard my father sing and thought he was something special. He wanted to help me because I am Shui’s son,” Konoe says desperately.

“Yet, you brought him to our _home_? And why, if _nothing_ happened, were you _hiding_ these clothes under your mattress? Did he _touch_ you, Konoe?”

“N-no,” Konoe hesitates slightly—because in fact, Rai did touch him, and _intimately_ , while caring for his wounds. Intimately enough so Konoe can’t stop thinking about it.

“Are you lying to me _again_? _Where_ did he touch you?”

“H-he-he-he j-just cared for my _welts_ , that’s _all_!” Konoe protests. “H-he was s-s-so kind, I didn’t think it w-was wrong—”

“It was _very_ wrong to involve a stranger in our affairs! Konoe, have you seen him since then?”

“I haven’t.” Truthfully, he wanted to see Rai again, very much, but Konoe hasn’t had a chance to get away.

“You will _not_ be seeing him again. Do you understand?”

“But Papa, he is just a friend!”

“I will _not_ have another cat meddling in our affairs!” The phrase is barked loud enough to make Konoe cringe in fear. “Get to your feet. You are about to learn what happens to kittens who involve strangers in their problems. It will be a lesson you will not soon forget.”

“B-but n-nothing h-happened—”

“Get to your feet! If I have to force you to obey, things will be much worse for you.”

Konoe gets to his feet, keeping his face down and his body tense. This is so much worse than the worst case scenario he’d imagined.

“Unbuckle your belt, drop your trousers, and lean over the edge of the armchair.”

Konoe obeys, feeling his ears burn with shame.

“Your underwear, too.”

A small hesitant growl issues from his throat as he complies, but he wiggles out of his underwear, letting them fall to the floor. Rai’s clothes are piled in a heap on the seat of Leaks’ armchair, and when Konoe leans over the arm, he can still smell the faint scent of that beautiful silver cat. Konoe squeezes his legs together.

“No, spread your legs. You won’t be able to withstand the blows otherwise.”

A sick, nauseous feeling starts to rise from his stomach to his throat, and Konoe squirms uncomfortably. He does not think he is healed from the _last_ beating.

He feels Leaks approaching him, picking something up from the floor—right next to his body—and then he feels a hand touching the bare skin of his buttocks. Immediately, the kitten straightens his spine, looking straight down at the clothes in the chair, trying to inhale Rai’s scent from them. He wants to lean down, wants to nuzzle his face in them, get some comfort from them, but he can’t.

He feels a sudden, intrusive touch on his ass—dexterous fingers, touching his cheeks, slipping between them, prying him apart, and he tries to bring his legs together and escape the assault.

Leaks’ swats him on the ass for his disobedience. 

“Be still. I want to check if you were taken advantage of, if you let another cat use your body, or if you were telling me the truth.”

Use his body? Use... _that_ part of his body? Use it how and for what? His ear prickle slightly and unpleasantly. What does he mean? 

Probing fingers slip between the young kitten’s cheeks, prodding around his pliant, virgin hole. As far as Leaks can tell, it’s untouched. He presses around it softly, checking for soreness, redness, tenderness—it would probably _still_ be sore if a Setsuran had taken him, before his heat, even a week later, and all the cats of the royal household—even their staff—are from Setsura. He watches Konoe’s face for any signs of recognition but sees nothing but horror and revulsion, mixed with confusion and humiliation.

Tears of shame run down Konoe’s eyes at this rough and unpleasant examination. He hasn’t been touched like this before—he doesn’t understand the meaning of the exam, and it feels like a violation, like an intrusion, and it makes him feel like he’s done something wrong.

“Please, Papa,” Konoe whispers. “I-I am s-so s-sorry. P-please, please d-don’t do this.”

Leaks roughly pushes up the shirt on his stepson’s back—and is shocked by the smooth pale skin—how much it reminds him of a smaller version of his lover, Shui. For a short moment, Leaks’ breath is taken away by his beauty. But he is confused—he knows he beat him severely, and only last week, over his back, buttocks, and thighs. Now, not even a trace is left? Not one welt?

Just a trace—here—on the child’s sit spot, and a faint mark on his inner thigh—and his tail, which has maintained its curved shape. Leaks feels filled with guilt about that, especially when he watches the tail lash in agitation—so much like his father’s did. How did this cat’s wounds heal so quickly? Perhaps—with song? Perhaps he _was_ actually treated, as he said? But who would have had the knowledge to treat him?

The marks are non-existent on his back—no scarring to be seen—the skin unmarred and beautiful, his waist defined, just like his father’s was, hips curving gently outward, more so than a usual young male’s should. Leaks admires the kitten’s youthful shape, realizing it may fill in slightly with age—he will become as enchanting as his father was—and is filled with dread. He _has_ to protect this child. He has to teach him—teach him— _what_? Teach him what _exactly_? 

Leaks catches his hands tracing the lines of Konoe’s waist and hip, searching for remaining traces from the cane or the strap.

“This is the _only_ way,” mutter Leaks, his heart filled with pain and sorrow.

“I’m sorry?” Konoe whispers. Such scrutiny—such a strange exam—it feels so wrong, it’s upsetting his stomach. He would rather have a beating than to be touched like this by his stepfather. Konoe picks up a slight sensation—a nostalgic desire—in Leaks’ heart—and it frightens him.

“The only way to keep you pure, unsullied,” Leaks mutters, still moving his hands along Konoe’s hips. A shudder goes through the kitten’s body. He feels sullied from Leaks’ touch—it is _wrong_ —he should not be touching him like this.

“Please, Papa,” he begs quietly, desperately. If he only remembers me as his _son_ —perhaps that will be enough, maybe he will stop...

“What happened to the welts on your skin?”

“I was treated. The cat from the royal household, who was kind to me, he lent me his clothes, he treated me. He said he had experience with this kind of thing.”

“They could not have disappeared in a week, even if treated. There are only very faint traces left. What happened? Have you been _singing_?”

Has he? Been singing? He hums to himself while working—doing his chores, but singing—

Another sharp slap, right to his sit spot shocks him out of his reverie. Konoe tried to squeeze his legs together, but Leaks forces them back apart. It’s humiliating.

“I asked if you have been singing.”

“Uh, um, in the kitchen, and when I do my chores, yes, I sometimes hum or sing to myself.”

“Show me.”

Right now? Like this? Again, bent over a chair, vulnerable, naked, Konoe hesitates, but another sharp slap to his sensitive sit spot warns him Leaks is serious.

“ _Show_ me.”

 Konoe clears his voice and tries to brush his tears away. He lowers his face to the clothing on the chair—somehow, thinking of Rai helps him focus, making him feel good—and he starts to hum to himself. A soft purr comes over his body like it always does, and he feels relaxed, even when naked and vulnerable. His song takes him to another world, another place. It soothes his heart.

As sometimes happens when Konoe sings, he hallucinates a light that looks like the melody he is singing, which envelopes his body. This time, it wraps around him like a blanket—no—not like a blanket. More like the soft touch of Rai’s gentle grooming, because that is what Konoe is imagining. It fills his heart with joy and peace.

“This is...” Leaks is amazed.

Konoe is a _Sanga_. Not just a musician, not just a magical musician like his father, but a _Sanga,_ a musician whose songs are imbued with magical power! _Who_ did the child meet in the forest? Was it a Touga, perhaps one looking for a bond? Setsura is known for breeding them by the dozens, powerful fighters, skilled hunters with awesome strength, a force to be reckoned with, some powerful enough to take on demons even without the help of a Sanga. If Konoe’s gift were to be discovered—he would certainly be valuable.

But he would be taken from Leaks.

And Konoe is all Leaks has left of Shui. Even as frustrated as he is with the child—as stubborn as he is in persisting with this dishonesty—Leaks cannot fathom a world without Konoe in it, without his cheerful face, his warm smile, his “Papa Leaks,” his favorite tea. Yet—if he is lying, he should not be _able_ to sing. _Not_ like that. For the Sanga relies on the purity of his heart and soul to communicate his heart’s desire through song. So how is the child able to sing now? 

Filled with anxiety, Leaks makes an impulsive decision. Regardless of Konoe’s song, he has disobeyed by bringing an outsider into the family affairs. He may or may not have stolen from the royal house—but in any case, having a member of the royal house involved now means that surely, their eyes are on Konoe. They will soon know of his power and he is at risk. Konoe must be taught a lesson and a harsh one.

“Child,” Leaks murmurs, finally releasing his waist. Konoe’s song stops.

“Papa?” So hesitant, and still eager to please. Obedient. Submissive. And dangerous.

“You _may_ have been given those clothes, and treated for your wounds, but _you_ brought an outsider into our family affairs. This will not do. It is a _serious_ offense. And because you now are in possession of clothing in the colors of the royal household, you could be marked as a thief, and subjected to a much more painful and public punishment, which would isolate our family from society.”

“Papa,” Konoe’s ears are lowered submissively, and he is speaking very quietly. “I-I am s-sorry, and I-I will p-pay for m-my m-mistake. I do not wish to bring shame to our house.”

“You will. Prepare yourself, but do not dig your claws into my chair, please. Keep your legs spread.”

“Yes, sir,” Konoe’s voice drips with tears. He thinks he is prepared for the first blow, expecting the sharp narrow piercing pain of the cane, but it’s the strap. It licks precisely around his sensitive and relaxed buttocks, right where the fleshy part meets his thighs, and the snap of the leather leaves a stinging welt in its wake, making his knees tremble.

The sound was just so loud, making his ears twitch, and he screams in pain. He instantly pulls his thighs together, but Leaks commands, “Keeps your legs spread, child.”

Sobbing uncontrollably after just the first blow, Konoe slides his feet apart, forcing his trembling knees to relax. Painful—so painful—so p-

Another blow—to the top of his buttocks now, tearing another scream from his throat. Again, Konoe’s legs squeeze together in pain.

“Child, spread your legs.”

The pain rushes through his body toward the front of his hips, aching in his groin, and before he is even situated, another two blows come down with the strap—wrapping around his legs. One of the blows finishes with the end of the belt wrapped around his upper thigh, twisting toward the inside, less than an inch away from his groin. He winces in pain, and grunts from the wind that is knocked out of him and a revolting, nauseating shudder that courses through his body.

“Your legs, Konoe,” Leaks reminds him.

After the tenth strap, Konoe knees are pressed together tightly and he wordlessly lowers his face against the chair, ass pushed back into the air, his tail lashing violently, painfully. But he cannot spread his quivering legs.

“Child!” Leaks is annoyed now, taking a moment to find the thickest book in the library he can find.

He forcibly bends Konoe in half over the armrest so his ass sticks out behind him again, then presses the book between his knees.

“Hold this book between your legs for the duration of your punishment, or I will start again.”

Terror shoots through his small body at the thought of having to begin his strapping anew. And the book is so heavy he can hardly hold it up—it takes all his concentration. When the strap comes down on his ass, he nearly lets the book fall to the ground. Instead, a scream tears from his mouth.

“Papa, _please_!” Konoe cries.

The fifteenth blow leaves another welt on his skin, and it looks beautiful. Leaks realizes he should probably switch to another implement. Taking the book from between the kitten’s knees, he returns it to the table, then pulls the kitten by the ear to a neighboring bench.

“It’s a hard lesson to learn, my child, but you must take your consequences bravely,” Leaks says, smoothing his hand over Konoe’s hot, welted buttocks, after pulling him across his lap. He can feel the kitten fighting for breath, fighting for air. He is probably expecting a mild hand-spanking now, but that isn’t what Leaks has planned.

Konoe’s eyes fly open when he feels something cool pressed against his buttocks. Just for a second, it's soothing. It’s hard, rounded, shaped flat like a paddle. A hairbrush?

Then, the volleys begin—one blow after another, at a fast pace and speeding up—slap, slap, slap—making his round buttocks dance and shiver, covering them fully from top to bottom, from the center to the outside, including his cheeks, his sit spot, and his sensitive thighs. The burning increases, the stinging increases, making him cry out loudly and sob in spite of himself.

As the brush spanking goes on—endlessly—Konoe can’t breathe—he is crying loudly and helplessly—his ass burning hotly and painfully—but he tries hard not to struggle or escape. The one time his hands fly up to protect his sensitive thighs, Leaks pulls them roughly and pins them against his lower back, which makes him arch his back and present himself even more thoroughly—and makes his ass even more lovely, Leaks thinks, almost heart-breakingly. 

The swats to his thighs are applied swiftly and forcefully aimed for the inside of his thighs, making him part them and relax into the punishment more—forcing him to submit, forcing his obedience—which Konoe does, willingly—desperately—and begging pleas drop from his lips.

“Papa, _please_ , Papa, I’m so sorry, _please_!” But he doesn't beg for mercy, he doesn't ask for Leaks to stop or go easy on him.

Konoe was ashamed of his nudity earlier, ashamed of the probing, humiliating exam, ashamed of this humiliating spanking—but now, all he wants is to _please_ Papa Leaks and make him _stop,_ anything to make him stop!

Tears are coursing down his cheeks, and he is desperate and at his limit. But Leaks can feel once the kitten finally relaxes and submits his body to the beating, and that’s when he stops.

“Stand in the corner,” comes the commanding voice. “Hands behind your head.”

Konoe so much wants to rub the pain away from his ass and his thighs, but he isn’t permitted. His stomach cramps painfully as he stands in the corner. He is so ashamed.

“Remain standing there like that till I say you can move.”

Leaks needs to let him recover before he can cane him. But cane him he will. Treachery is not something Leaks takes lightly, and the kitten _will_ learn this lesson today.

Within a few minutes, Firi enters the study with a question about his assignment, and Konoe can feel eyes on him. It’s humiliating. Leaks watches with some curiosity—so the kitten is mortified so easily? This is good to know.

Leaks excuses himself to his lab for a moment—checking on Firi’s assignment—leaving Firi and Konoe, and Konoe freezes when he feels Firi’s breath on his ear.

“Your ass is such a pretty color, Konoe, pink just like your ears!”

Konoe doesn’t speak. He feels something pressing against him from behind. Is it the hairbrush?

Slap—a small sound comes out of Konoe’s mouth—he wasn’t expecting it—and he hears Firi purring.

“Aww—it’s so cute and round.”

Smack—“All swollen like this.”

Smack—“Hot to the touch.”

Smack—“Like you could burn me.”

Smack—“Maybe I should see you in the night and we can play a little bit, Konoe.”

Smack—Konoe hisses, and he turns around to try to grab the hairbrush from Firi’s hands—just as Leaks walks back in the study.

“Rebellious child!” Leaks yells, making Konoe’s ears lower miserably. “I told you to stand in the corner with your arms over your head. Haven’t you learned _anything_ after all this? Perhaps you’d prefer an _audience_ this time?”

“Papa, no, _please_ ,” Konoe’s drooping ears and lowered eyes look miserable.

“Hands against the wall, now.” Papa is so cold and angry, he hardly recognizes his voice, but Konoe obeys.

“Please, Papa, I can’t—”

“Then you _should_ have obeyed me!” Leaks roars, making the young kitten flinch, tears flowing freshly.

“Yes, sir,” he sobs miserably, but still, he submits. He obeys without question.

The blows from the cane rain down against his sensitive flesh—swollen from the hairbrush and welted from the strap. Sharp, stinging pain, precise from the rattan cane. It clears Konoe’s head but sends fresh tears sliding down his cheeks. He feels his legs losing power, his knees about to buckle, and he snaps and locks them together so he doesn’t collapse, digging his claws into the wall.

In addition to the pain is this horrible humiliation—Firi’s red eyes crawling over his body—he can _feel_ them crawling over his skin. _Disgusting_.

Konoe feels his lunch rising in his throat—and he’s afraid—very afraid he may lose it. He raises the fingers on his right hand, ever so tentatively.

“Papa, please,” his voice hoarse through the tears and sobs.

The beating slows and stops, and he can hear his stepfather actually panting in the background. Is he giving him that much of a workout? 

“I-I think I’m going to be s-sick,” Konoe says, mortified.

“Aww, are you that embarrassed, little brother?” Firi asks, and Konoe flinches when he feels a soft hand reaching out to touch his swollen ass. “Wow—it’s actually hot!”

“Get yourself to the river,” Leaks growls. “Leave those clothes where you found them, and do _not_ speak to that cat again. You are not to involve anyone else in our family’s affairs! Do you understand me?”

Won’t he be able to at least say goodbye? Thank him for his help?

Konoe’s jaw is grabbed firmly, and he finds himself staring into his stepfather’s fiery eyes. “Have I made myself clear?”

“Y-y-yes, sir,” the response is immediate and submissive. Obedient. Again. Despite that beating, the child has not rebelled. Is he perhaps still pure of heart? _What if I made a mistake?_

 _What if Firi is the one who lied? Am I driving my last connection to Shui into a corner?_ Leaks examines Konoe’s face carefully. His eyes are full of tears and an earnest desire to please. Leaks feels slight disgust—with himself—and contempt for Konoe. _A fool. A fool like his father was, for loving such a one as I._

“Go. Firi, you will remain here, in my study.”

“What?” Firi whips around, eyes full of disappointment.

“We have your assignment to discuss.”

That cheers up the young cat mightily, and he preens with the attention, watching as his half-naked younger stepbrother wobbles unsteadily to pick up his clothes and scurry up the stairs.


	15. Behind the Castle Walls - Razel x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another Lamento AU, in which Leaks rules Sisa.
> 
> Konoe is nearing his 16th birthday in Karou when soldiers from Castle Ransen break down his door. The soldiers inform him he is 11 years overdue on taxes, and that he will be conscripted into indentured service at Castle Ransen to repay his debt. He owes 15 years of service after interest. They march him away from a home he has never left.
> 
> Along the way, a soldier named Asato makes friends with him, getting in trouble for making too much conversation with the captive.

My ears lower and my tail droops hopelessly once the drawbridge creaks closed. Beyond that door and the castle walls lies my freedom. Within the last twelve hours, I’ve become indentured at this place. Apparently, I’ll be serving a fifteen-year term to repay my debts, all because I couldn’t pay the taxes due on my tiny home in Karou.

One of the Lord’s knights violently dragged me from my bed this morning, informing me the Lord had generously come to this decision. Why such a sentence was necessary is new to me as well. I owe one year of service for every year of taxes, plus several more years to cover the interest, which is how it's ended up at fifteen years. I’ll be over thirty years old upon my release! But exactly how or where I’ll be serving is unknown. I wasn’t even aware I _owed_ taxes!

I’ve lived alone in Karou since the death of my mother when I was only five, which was almost eleven years ago. That makes me of age, nearly sixteen, old enough to be responsible for the taxes of the small home. The officials never came to collect and waited patiently for me to come of age to collect my person in place of any money. Although, I had no money to give them—and nothing of value, it seems.

I watch over my shoulder as the drawbridge creaks, closing slowly, leaving my old life behind, along with my freedom. A feeling of utter dread comes over me as soon as the gate is shut, and I’m approached by a tall person with flaming red hair. My sense of fear rises another notch, and I feel like I might vomit. I’m suddenly grateful that we didn’t stop to eat anything along the way.

When I look at the person standing before me, he towers over me. His hair is wavy and bright red, and very long, though it’s currently pulled back away from his shoulders. Even pulled up, it reaches the middle of his back. He has a handsome face—chiseled cheekbones and striking blue eyes, which are currently examining me closely. He must be important, because of how he is dressed. His clothes are those of a nobleman, dressy and formal, black and dark red, cut close to his body.

There’s something odd about this person—and I do a double-take when I notice his tail. It’s long and slim, black and hairless, and it’s restlessly moving back and worth. At first, I thought it was a snake. It is _not_ a cat’s tail.

When I look at his face again, I realize he has fleshy protrusions on either side of his head that aren’t covered in fur. He has _human_ ears—well, nearly human. They have pointed tips, rather than rounded. He is _not_ a cat.

Additionally, among that thick red hair, I notice that what I thought was a crown on his head is _not_ actually a crown. An impressive pair of black horns curves gently upwards from either side of his temple. What _is_ this? Is he a _devil_? What is going on here? My hackles raise and my fur bristles.

When I put all these details together, a small fearful growl leaks from my throat, and I back away from him, though my wrists are still shackled.

“Oy, oy, now,” his voice is quiet and even. “Are you sure you don’t wish to be unshackled, now that you’ve finally arrived? We’ve been waiting for you, Konoe.”

I’m very wary of him—what is a _devil_ doing here? And he knows my _name_? What does he want with _me_? What _is_ this place? My heart thumps loudly in my ears, and I continue backing away from him.

“Don’t be afraid, little one,” his voice sounds soothing, and he sounds like he is used to frightening young cats like me. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Razel. I assist the Lord in finding places for new recruits, such as yourself.” His lips curve up into a smile, but his eyes do _not_ smile—not at all—his eyes look like they want to devour me. When he smiles, he reveals sharp canines poking over his full lips. He truly frightens me.

“Come, hold out your hands. Let’s take these shackles off. You must be tired after your journey. We should get you cleaned up first, don’t you think, before we find a place for you, hmm?” He continues speaking to me in a low tone, as though comforting a frightened animal.

Razel takes a key from around his neck, reaches a long arm out to my shackles and pulls me to him, easily. My growling stops instantly—the moment he puts his hands on me—his hands are so hot—and he unlocks the shackles from my wrists, removing them as if they are weightless.

I rub my wrists—they are bruised and tender from the heavy shackles and the long walk. They felt very heavy to me, but this devil lifted them as though they weighed nothing. I wonder—were they enchanted? I sneak a look up to Razel, and his clear blue eyes peer down at me.

“It appears we will have some training ahead of us,” he smiles down at me. “But let’s get you cleaned up first.”

My tail quivers in fear when he speaks. Do I _have_ to follow him, really? Alone? I don’t think I can do this.

“Come,” Razel says, turning on his heel, heading down a corridor dimly lit with lamps. I get a strange sense of foreboding.

I hesitate a moment, my ears twitching. I don’t trust him. He is a devil! Why is a devil working here? Do I really have to follow a devil? What kind of mix-up would there have to have been for this to happen? Maybe this is all a mistake, and so I open my mouth.

“I think there’s been a mistake. I am Konoe of Karou. I’m here to work off a debt to the Lord of Ransen. I only found out about it this morning, but I’m sure you must have me confused with another cat.”

Razel turns to look at me, and darkness passes over his expression briefly when he sees I have not followed him. He crosses his arms across his broad chest, and replies, “Konoe of Karou, son of Shui and Marta, nearly 16 years of age. You’ve never left your home in Karou before, have you?”

“No, I have not.” I’m shocked he knows my name, birthplace, and parents. My ears lower when he says them out loud.

“And might I assume you’ve not had much association with others? Not even in your village. They avoided you after the passing of your mother, didn’t they?”

“Um—that’s true. I have not.” How would he know that? I can feel a blush rising in my face. I guess he does know me.

“The villagers knew about the taxes due on your home and didn’t inform you. There’s been no mistake. You’re in the right place. We’ve been awaiting your arrival, eagerly. However, we will have some work ahead of us, but no matter. It will be my pleasure. Your first lesson will be learned quickly. First, when I ask you to come, you need to comply _immediately_.” Razel’s voice is very quiet—not angry, not upset. Just extremely even. He continues.

“I’m not looking for questions or excuses. If you have questions, save them for after you’ve obeyed. Once you’ve obeyed me, I _might_ consider giving you the privilege of asking a question. Until you’ve earned the privilege, keep those pretty lips shut.”

A small surprised sound falls from my lips. I find myself frozen in place, unable to move from my spot.

“Second, when you address me, you may call me sir. I don’t mind if you admire me—I know I’m nice to look at, and you’re new to the castle. But you need to keep your place in mind. Perhaps if you were on your knees, it would be easier for you to remember your place here.” 

In a flash, Razel appears before me. He’s closed the distance between us without making a sound. 

“Yet, you _still_ have not obeyed. You did _not_ come when called, and you have _not_ kneeled before me. Is there a problem, or are you desiring a public punishment? Myself, I am happy to perform either way, but most of my recruits prefer their punishments performed in private.”

“P-punishments?” I ask, stunned, still frozen in place, like my feet are glued to the ground.

“For your disobedience,” Razel’s tone is still very low, very even. I’ve noticed several people in the courtyard have stopped working and are looking in our direction. At first, I thought it was just because I was new, but now, my fear is becoming unbearable. My ears twitch with the tension.

“Wait—d-disobedience? I didn’t disobey!” I exclaim. “I simply wanted to make sure you had the right person.”

“You defied me, in public, in the courtyard. Defiance is disobedience, Konoe, kitten. This is an excellent learning opportunity for you.” I’m shocked at how low his voice is, even now. He doesn’t yell. In fact, it’s almost too calm.

“That wasn’t defiance!” I yell, although—now I realize I do indeed sound defiant.

Razel looks down at me, taking my arm, and pulling me along firmly. “This is your doing, keep in mind. Next time, I’ll bet you choose a private session with me instead.”

“Wait— _stop_ —what are you doing?!” I protest, dragged along behind him. As I'm forced to follow, I notice he is carrying several scary-looking implements attached to his belt, including a whip, a riding crop, a leather thong, a ruler, and a cane. Fear like cold water is dumped over my shoulders. What is he going to do to me? 

“Because this is your first time, you may find it difficult to submit. But understand, Konoe, kitten, you _will_ submit to me. No matter how long it takes, you _will_ submit. So to start, I will hold you. That often makes it easier.” The tone of his cold voice sends shivers down my spine. Submit? Submit to _what_ exactly? The anticipation and fear are overtaking me now, and another small sound escapes my throat. My body is trembling uncontrollably.

In the center of the courtyard—the very center, where anyone who wants to look can get a good view—there is a large armless chair. Razel takes a seat and drags me across his lap, face down.

I cannot _believe_ this is happening. What the hell is this place? Is he going to spank me? Here? In front of all these strangers? My face is burning up.

“Usually, I have the offender count off the number of blows, but I don’t know how many it will take for you to submit to me. And I don’t believe I can rely on you to count, either. So I will do this as many times as needed—until you submit. Do you understand?” 

“Get me out of here! Let go of me! This is crazy!” I’m shouting desperately, squirming, fighting, trying to get out of his grip—but his hands are like a vice.

Just when I think it can’t possibly get worse, I feel a hand fumbling at the front of my breeches, unbuttoning them with speed I never thought possible—and I gasp in surprise. Razel pulls them and my underclothing down in a single experienced swift tug. I’m so humiliated and embarrassed—my ears burn in shame, and I can’t look up from the floor. He’s exposed my ass to the entire courtyard! Is he going to spank my bare ass— _in front of everyone here_? What the hell have I gotten myself into?

“ _That’s_ closed your mouth, has it?” His large hand—it’s so hot— _why does he feel so hot?_ —rubs tenderly against my bare skin, and it feels almost affectionate. “Beautiful fresh _virgin_ skin,” he whispers under his breath.

What the _fuck_ did he just say? I flinch, cringing in terror.

Then, the first blow comes down against my ass, and it stings! I haven’t been spanked in since my mother was alive, and even then, I must have been three or four. But this—this is excruciating! Between the pain and mortification, I can't seem to catch my breath. His hand moves quickly, in practiced motions, making embarrassingly loud slapping sounds, first my left and then my right cheek. But the _worst_ are the blows against the sensitive skin right where my legs and ass meet—and those hurt so much I almost jump off his lap!

At first, I try to cover myself, but he grabs both my hands in one of his and pins them tightly in place at the small of my back. That makes me arch my back, which makes my ass stick out even further, making me an easier target. I can’t twist out of the way, either, since he’s holding me so tightly. I try to kick away from him, but his legs have me pinned down in an iron grip, too.

I struggle to keep my tail out of the way, for fear it might get damaged. Razel’s hand speeds up, and I lose my breath—and I cry out loudly with every blow. It doesn’t take long for me to start crying for real in pain. At first, I was yelling in frustration, and then, I cried out in response to the pain. Now, my sobs are because I am mortified, embarrassed, and broken. But because I can’t escape, and I _know_ I can’t, I realize I’d better just submit, or he might spank me all night! I can’t handle this torture and humiliation.

Burying my head in his lap, I’m crying full force now. I can’t get myself to stop—even when Razel’s hand finally slows down the volleys. I have submitted my body now, and I open my hands, relaxingmy body, feeling stinging blows drop down on my unprotected flesh—burning each time—and they _do_ burn, actually—yet he still continues spanking me as if to make the point that he owns me.

Speaking into his lap, between my sobs, I start to beg and plead, “Please—sir—I’m so sorry—I submit— _please_ —I was in the wrong—sir—I disobeyed—and—ah—I’m sorry—please— _please_ ”—until I can’t speak anymore. 

Once his hand stops the blows and his hold on me loosens, I scramble off his lap and kneel at his feet, lowering my head (and my ears) in submission. I make my body as small as possible.

“Sir, I’m sorry,” my breeches are still in disarray, but I just leave them.

I feel the touch of a hot finger on my chin, and it tilts my face up toward its owner.

“This is a  _much_ better look for you,” Razel’s calm voice hasn’t changed its icy calm, even after that brutal public punishment. “You look beautiful when you submit. You’re so much softer, little one. Your eyes shine, your lips are full, and now, the entire castle can’t take their eyes off your gorgeous ass, Konoe. I did you a favor, you see. You’ll have no trouble now attracting work.”

“Work?” But what kind of work is he talking about? My stomach turns slightly, fear pouring into my very soul, and Razel chuckles slightly.

“Let’s finish up our business here, and then we can get going. As you recall, there were two lessons you were learning, correct?”

My ass hurts so much, and I want to rub it—cover it up, too—but that won’t help me remember the answers to the questions this devil is asking me. Lessons? Oh, yes—he wanted me to submit. “You wanted me to submit to you, sir.”

“Correct, but for what purpose?”

I’m stumped. “Oh—because I didn’t follow you when you told me to come?” I ask timidly.

“Good boy,” Razel rewards me with a small smile and a soft stroke on my sore ass as well—which feels very odd. A surprising shiver goes through my body in response to his touch. “Now, do you remember the second issue?”

I think carefully. “You told me to call you sir, and I didn’t address you respectfully? Ah, and you wanted me to kneel?” 

“Well, that has something to do with it, but the main issue was _defiance_. Obedience and defiance. When I ask you to come, I expect immediate compliance. When I ask you to address me, I would like to do it respectfully, and not defy me in public.”

I lower my ears again, still sitting on my knees before him.

“So the spanking was to teach you to obey. Now, I need to teach you to not to defy me.”

I flinch suddenly. _Another_ lesson? Wait—what? I don’t think I can handle another spanking. I start to shake a little, and my ears fold flat against my head in fear, my tail bristling.

“N-No, _please_ …”

Taking my chin in his hand, he lifts my lowered face so he can directly address me. His other hand strokes my tail, making that odd sensation run through my body again. What _is_ that feeling?

“Ah—your tail looks lovely fluffed up like that. Listen, now, and learn well. I hold an important position here. It’s important that you, one of my students—or recruits, rather—make sure that you maintain this boundary with me. Otherwise, the other recruits might also rebel, or the Lord may think I’m doing a sub-par job or going easy on you. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir,” and I can’t keep the misery out of my voice. “I’m so sorry I spoke to you disrespectfully.” Tears drip from my eyes. I am afraid of what he is about to do to me. 

“In some ways, respect can be a more important lesson than obedience, since it affects those around you and their livelihoods as well. This is a very important lesson, Konoe. As your own father died so young, perhaps you never had a chance to learn how important _respect_ is in relationships. I will gladly step in for you.”

He grabs my shoulder, pulling me to my feet.

“Now, show me what you’ve just learned about submission. Keep standing, but place your hands on the seat of this chair.”

I get an absolutely sick feeling in my stomach, but I bend my body over at the waist and put my hands on the seat of the chair as he requested, sticking my reddened ass out into the room. My breeches are still gathered up around my ankles, and I'm completely mortified.

“Kitten, make sure you’ve got a firm grip now, dig those claws in if you have to. I’ll give you ten strokes with the cane, and I want to hear your beautiful voice count each one off for me. If you fail to count them off, I will start over from the beginning. Do you understand?” I feel another soft brush against my bare ass, but this time, it’s a slim, wooden stick—and I’m filled with terror, my heart rising up to my throat. This is going to hurt a _lot_ more than his hand.

I dig my claws into the seat just in time and hear a whistling sound that makes my ears twitch, just before the cane makes contact with my sit spot.

Thwack!

My entire body pitches forward toward the chair in response to the blow, and I howl in pain. 

The area the cane hits is so slim—a narrow stripe against my bare flesh—but it shoots pain both down my thighs and up into my ass like nothing I could have imagined. The pain even starts to reach around my hips, and I swallow in terror of what's to come. Tears squirt out of my eyes, and I lick my lips.

“One,” I count softly, hopelessly.

“Excellent job, kitten. I didn’t think you’d be able to handle this on your first day,” Razel whispers into my ear, the proximity of his mouth to my ear surprising me, since his whisper moves the fur there, tickling me and sending a shiver down my spine. The whisper distracts me enough so I miss the sound of the cane swishing through the air.

Thwack!

After another agonized scream, the pain flowing more to the left butt cheek this time, threatening to topple me to the ground, I manage a very soft, “Two.”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Almost bringing me to my knees, these blows are much more intense, applied in such rapid succession. I scream with each blow, tears flowing freely. The pain has wrapped around my hips and is creeping toward my groin, precariously close to my privates. I bend over to protect them and feel like I might throw up.

“Three, four, and five,” my voice is close to a whisper now, and before I even get the last word out—

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Instead of screams, my cries end in quiet, breathy sobs. I’m losing my voice and struggling to breathe. I feel faint from the pain, but quickly and desperately count, “Six, seven, and eight.”

Thwack!

“Ah!” Aimed right at my thighs, this one was particularly mean—a fresh spot on my legs is covered with pain. My knees are left shaking. But I don’t forget to count, for fear he might start over from the beginning.

“Nine.” I’m relieved to count that number—only one more left. I can do this!

Thwack! 

A loud scream tears from my throat—my legs were slightly open at this blow, and my tender thighs weren’t recovered from the last one. Stuttering sobs flow from my mouth, but before I let them flow freely, I exhale the word, “Ten!”

I’m filled with relief. This has to be it, then, right? I collapse where I’m standing, my tears overtaking me, sobs wracking my frame. I fall on my knees in front of the chair, shivering with pain. I try to touch my ass, but when I do, the area is burning with pain. The spanking was bad enough, and my skin is still hot from that, but the caning? This has left mean red stripes on my ass, too hot, too swollen to even touch.

“Good boy,” Razel offers me praise, which strangely covers me in gooseflesh. “Face forward, my darling.”

I obey immediately, but I’m covered with confusion and fear. I struggle back to my feet, still sobbing quietly.

“I cannot have you believe that you may do as you wish whenever you like. This is the last part of your lesson—assuming you obey for the rest of the evening. Hold out your hands, palms up.”

Terrified, I raise my eyes to him, fresh thick tears falling down my face. He cannot mean to use the cane on my hands? Why? What have I done to offend?

“Konoe.” Razel takes my chin in hand once again. “Surely, you don’t mean to defy me _again_. Not right after that punishment? I know you are new here, but you _cannot_ be that slow of a learner. Show me your palms.”

Quivering in fear, and a small pleading sound issuing from my mouth, I hold my hands out to him obediently, palms up. My hands quiver before me, but my arms are straight. A small plea falls from my lips, “Ah—please, but, _please_ —I have already learned my lesson so well!”

“I’m glad to hear it, but this is the final part of your lesson. Count for me again. I _love_ the sound of your voice.” I can watch his cold eyes as he smacks the cane down against my soft, defenseless palms.

Of course, the pain is horrendous—making me feel like my fingers are breaking, shooting into my knuckles and into my claws. It takes everything I have not to pull my hands away from the blow.

“One,” I whisper, glancing up at Razel, and then dropping my eyes humbly.

Smack! 

Blood and pain pool in my fingers, making them feel oddly heavy, like my claws might break off at any moment. I watch as my claws draw automatically, hoping to defend themselves from this assault. 

“Two,” I whisper, keeping my eyes on my hands.

Smack!

Now, the pain creeps up into my wrists, making my hands quiver and tremble, threatening to make me drop my arms to my sides. But I fight the feeling and keep them still. I can see three bright red stripes on the palms of my hands.

“Three,” another whisper to confirm the blow.

Smack!

The pain creeps above my wrists and shoots into my forearms and elbows—I shriek, wanting to rub my arms after this blow. My arms drop slightly in defense, but I immediately lift them back up to Razel, as though in an offering.

“Four,” I nearly scream.

Smack! 

This time, I manage to get myself back together. Half-way through now—I can _do_ this. I look up at Razel’s face, hoping to see that he is proud of my efforts. I’m shocked to find him smiling,actually _smiling_ —his fangs peek through the top of his lips. Shock courses through my body as he licks his lips, ogling me like a delicious treat. Another tear slips down my face, and a shudder goes through my spine. 

“Five,” I whisper, utterly horrified.

Smack!

Why is he smiling? I shiver with pain. Does he _like_ torturing me? Maybe this isn’t about discipline at all—it’s all about _torture_! The pain of that blow reaches all the way to my collarbones, but I’m too disgusted to care.

“Six,” I answer, disgusted.

Smack!

Razel looks at me sharply and hits my tender flesh even more viciously, and a shriek is inadvertently torn from my lungs. He's looking at me with angry eyes, now, as though he can read my thoughts!

“Seven?” It almost sounds like a question, or a plea—desperate to please him with my suffering.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

A volley of smacks in quick succession take my breath away—I’m left sobbing, honestly crying now. But I still manage, barely audible in a whisper. Those last three blows—I feel like my claws are going to fall right off and my fingers will break. Looking at my hands, I can’t close them into fists anymore, red and swollen, and I can’t hold anything, grab anything, do _anything_ with them—my hands have become _useless_. But—I remember to count.

“Eight, nine, and ten!” Only then do I dissolve into tears, crumpling up on the ground in a small ball, trembling with pain and fear. I'm broken and beaten—useless. How can I serve anyone with hands such as these?

“ _Very_ nice—that was divine,” Razel say gently, surprising me again when he licks my ear, “You’re going to fit in here very nicely! Now, come. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He scoops me up in his arms, since I’m nearly useless now, and carries me down the dimly lit corridor. 

What have I gotten myself into?


	16. Behind the Castle Walls - Leaks x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lord of Castle Ransen, Leaks, meets with the latest recruit.

I’m shocked back into reality when I feel a hand on my face, tilting up my chin to meet his gaze.

So creepy—just like looking into my own eyes. Why do I look so much like him? He left that part out of the story. Why do we look so much alike?

“Wh-why do you have my face?” I blurt it out.

I can’t help asking. He’s leaving out some crucial details, I can tell because he smiles at my question.

“I suppose I did forget to talk about that part,” that voice slithers into my ears, and his thumb continues to brush my cheek. “And isn’t it that _you_ have _my_ face, little one? However, if I told you now, what would we talk about next time? I need to give you something to look forward to, don’t I?”

I really dislike the feeling when he touches me. It feels dirty—almost as if my own _father_ were to touch me inappropriately. It feels all _wrong_. He should _not_ be touching me like this. And that gleam in his eye—it looks incredibly wicked.

“How about you do what you came here to do, then?” His voice is very soft. “I’ll go easy on you this evening since Razel already gave you such a hard time earlier.”

Fear starts to overtake me and it’s too late to swallow it back down.

“No— _please_ —b-but haven’t I p-pleased you?” I’m desperate, the power fading from my body, but tension increasing in my stomach.

“Oh, you’ve pleased me very much,” he purrs. “Your voice pleases me _very_ much, which is why I want you to do what you came here for and without further _delay_.”

With the word “delay,” something like black ribbons flies from the magician’s fingers. Was he holding something, or is that a spell? They seem to be living creatures, like snakes, lashing themselves to my wrists, pulling my arms above my head with a powerful force. I hear and feel my shoulders crack, the silky sashes winding and twisting themselves around my arms, binding them tightly behind my back. 

“The sooner you become used to your role, the better. Who knows? Perhaps this treatment will force your song to emerge a little sooner,” the magician’s voice is nonchalant like this is an everyday occurrence. Maybe he ties people up in his chambers every night.

“W-what are you g-going to do to me?” I stammer. The silk ribbons are still moving slightly behind me—and they feel slippery and utterly disgusting. But the more I struggle, the tighter they become, and I start to lose feeling in my fingers. My claws are drawn, but I can’t retract them because my circulation is cut off.

“You may want to stop your struggle, kitten,” his eyes flash orange in the dim firelight, “since the more you struggle, the tighter the bonds become. I don’t mind so much, watching you, however. It’s... quite a lovely sight. And you’re old enough so I don’t feel at all guilty, unlike what I did to those younger kittens. Your voice—you sound _so_ much like your father. It’s such a nostalgic feeling. I find I’m rather desperate to hear you sing for me.”

The last sentence is spoken breathlessly, as he leans forward, his long hair brushing against my body, whispering directly into my ear—and a tremor runs through me. My bound arms are suddenly grabbed, and my body is turned onto my stomach, bent over the edge of the bed, with my feet touching the floor. The moment my feet reach the floor, however, I cry out loudly. Searing pain from the bottom of my feet shoots up past my ankles into my knees—it’s a result from Razel’s caning.

“Beautiful,” Leaks murmurs behind me. “That sound was _beautiful_. Although, I feel like I should suggest you put more weight on your stomach. Then your poor feet wouldn’t cause you quite so much suffering, kitten.”

I struggle to obey, only without the use of my arms, I must look obscene, wiggling and rubbing myself against the bed. Plus, in this position, my ass sticks out far behind me, and I feel a soft touch against me, and a hand grabs my tail, firmly. 

“You know, I have eyes many places in this palace, including in the wardrobe,” the voice has lowered even further. “I know you haven't yet experienced your first heat—and that you’re terribly inexperienced in the world of pleasure. However, after watching you being stimulated and pleasured like that—even if was just your tail—you were _completely_ at the mercy of the yellow demon—those beautifully licentious sounds coming from this lustful body—I wonder, will we be able to wait till your first heat to consummate our love for you?”

“H-heat?” I stutter incomprehensibly. “W-wait for wh-what?” What is he even talking about? Is he going to take me by force? Although, I didn’t know a lot of things before today. Whatever it is he’s talking about, I’m terrified. This magician scares me. 

“Lift your face.”

I do, and before me, at the head of the bed, hangs a mirror. Was it there before? Is that what he’s been glancing at all this time? Who _the hell_ would want a mirror in their bedroom? Looking up, I can see myself, sprawled indecently at the edge of the bed, my hands bound behind me, the ribbon only adding to the indecency my current nudity—making me look even more obscene than this outfit already does. I lower my ears and my eyes in shame, feeling a red-hot blush in my chest that climbs slowly into my ears. 

Before, I was too afraid to feel shame, but I wasn’t aware of my appearance. This is what I look like? This is horribly shameful.

Smack!

I scream at the burning, stinging impact on my ass, and my eyes fly open, glancing back at my reflection. The magician is holding a black leather whip in his hand, which he just used to strike my exposed ass.

“I told you to lift your face,” he says quietly.

I obey, looking up fearfully, surprised I hadn’t even noticed the whip in his hands earlier. How could I have missed something that important? Where did it come from? I shudder again.

I watch as he picks something up from the side table—a crystal glass—and he takes a small sip, savoring the liquid in his mouth.

“It’s wine, made from grapes, from our local vineyard. Have you ever tried wine, little one?”

I watch in the reflection as he approaches, and he offers me a sip of the dark red substance. I don’t care for the flavor—it burns my nose, and I refuse a second taste, turning away. However, he takes a large swig himself, and instead of swallowing it, he forces his mouth to mine.

My mouth is suddenly filled with the liquid, burning my nose and tongue, drawing tears from my eyes, but he forces it all down my throat, making me swallow.

Kissing him—having his mouth on mine—just feels _wrong_. Another tremor runs through my body—it transverses my skin unpleasantly.

“I want you to _watch_ ,” the magician says softly, as he returns the glass to the table. “Perhaps you will see what I find so enchanting about your body.”

Watch _what_? Oh, no—not this—please—no…

“B-but w-wait,” I implore, “ _please_ , I’m not disobeying you! _Please_! Please, don’t hurt me.”

“It isn’t that I have a desire to hurt you exactly,” His voice falls around my ears when the whip cracks against my skin. I cry out loud at the impact—the stinging pain is intense, burning me where it strikes. “No, little one—lift your face. I want you to watch.”

"No, _please_ —stop!” I obey and lift my face as he commands.

As the whip smacks me a third time, he continues, “I just long to hear that lovely voice of yours. Sometimes I may simply punish you because it is my wish, or because I need to hear your voice to soothe my soul, or because I wish to see you struggle. Fortunately for you, your only job is to submit to my desires. That is all that I require.” 

“ _Please_!”

And again—another crack of the whip as I shriek in pain. I watch my body twitch as the whip lashes against my soft skin. My tail is puffed out fully, beyond recognition, and it looks strangely beautiful, undulating back and forth, trying to avoid the blows from the cruel whip.

“Sing for me.”

Sing? What is he talking about? Does he want me to cry? With the next blow, another scream tears from my throat, tears overflowing from my eyes. He _wants_ to hear me cry, so I make no efforts to suppress my voice, hoping this will appease him. However, if anything, it only seems to provoke his brutality, not curb it. I don’t know what to do to make this whipping stop!

Then, in rapid succession—smack—smack—smack—smack—smack—while I watch, the skin of my thighs reddening under the force of the whip. Red stripes raise in angry lines across my flesh. Yet I cannot move to escape the blows, even when I see them coming.

The pain on my feet gets to be too much, so I can move neither the right nor left. I’m simply stuck in place, frozen, unable to protect or defend myself. The only thing I can do I cry out, and I do so, loudly.

I feel helpless when I watch the black leather striking my skin—I know it will burn and sting before the pain actually registers—and the sound of the whip slapping my thighs makes my ears twitch in terror before the pain sinks into my mind.

As soon as I feel it, my skin flares up, the nerves acting like they’ve been singed by flame, my body jumping slightly off the mattress, my muscles twitching defensively. Still, there’s nowhere for me to go, so I simply submit to the punishment.

Although—I don’t understand. _Why_ am I being punished? For being Shui’s son? For having a captivating voice? For being alive?

By the third blow of that rapid succession, my separate cries have blended to a single wail, and I’m sobbing loudly, frustrated, helpless, in pain, and I don’t know how to stop this whipping. I do know that I won’t be able to stay conscious like this for much longer, and in some ways, losing consciousness might even be practical. I try to chase the growing, fuzzy feelings of unconsciousness, but the sharp pain of the whip wakes me each time I close in on those feelings.

It hurts too much to open my mouth to plead, to beg forgiveness, or even to beg for him to stop. I’m in too much pain to form words. The whip is _easily_ as painful as the cane, though I expect Leaks is using a softer touch because this is my first time with him. He could make this worse—much worse—if he wanted to—and that frightens me more than I can say.

“Keep your eyes open, Konoe. I want you to watch.”

I hadn’t even realized I had closed them. My eyes are so filled with tears that my world is completely blurry. I’m crying constantly, and I’m simply adding louder screams to the existing cries with every new blow. 

The pain between strokes doesn’t diminish—it remains steady—a painful thrumming of nerves. My skin is painfully aroused and expecting its next blow. Semi-intelligible words tumble from my lips. I think I hear myself saying, “Please, please, please,” over and over.

Finally, the blows start to slow. In the mirror, I can see the skin of my ass and thighs is tanned bright pink, striped with angry red lines. He gives me one last hard wallop—and I scream in response—and I catch him shuddering in response to my cries. Looking at the front of his breeches, I can see he is completely aroused.

It creeps me out more than I could have ever imagined.

He _really_ enjoys my pain. I won’t survive this place if my song doesn’t reveal itself soon. Some talent I must have—he’s going to kill me, beat me to death, getting off on the sound of my voice. I have to figure out how to sing, and soon! How am I going to do this? Because I cannot keep coming here for repeated whippings like this, night after night. I won't make it! 

Still looking up at him, but resting my neck, I watch as the magician gently skates his fingers across my red skin. I flinch in response, yelping loudly in complaint.

“You look tender,” he says evenly. “Just lovely. Your skin is beautiful, as easily as gorgeous as the voice I just heard. You may not sense its power, but I certainly do. All magical beings sense it—that’s why the devils aren’t able to leave you alone, and why, I suspect, the earl will approach you soon, if he hasn’t already. He will be undeniably attracted to you. I wonder what he will do. Will he allow his self-control to get out of hand and end up attacking you? I can’t wait to see!”

I watch him lift his fingers in a swift motion, calling back the snake-like ribbons from my wrists. They smooth their way down my body, crawling disgustingly across my ass and thighs, as they return to their master—before disappearing into a puff of smoke. A small spasm travels through my body, and I'm finally able to retract my claws. My palms burn.

“You did very well. I’m much soothed,” Leaks says, smiling broadly, stroking my burning ass once again gently. “I’ll have someone fetch you. I can’t wait to play with you next time.”


	17. Behind the Castle Walls - Rai x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At this point, Konoe is under the influence of an incubus bite, which has "bonded" him to his master, Rai, and makes him act slightly out of character.

The next morning, when I wake, I’m feeling very warm—almost stifling—and exceedingly aroused. My entire body is flushed, and I feel disoriented, unaware of my surroundings, almost as though I’m in a dream.

I feel a soft, damp touch on my ears—just like last night before falling asleep—it’s Rai’s tongue—licking me, grooming me, in long strokes, and occasionally playfully nipping the tip of my ears, as though he is trying to wake me.

 _He smells so good._  

Why is does he smell so comforting? It’s making me want to do something I probably shouldn’t. 

I haven’t opened my eyes yet—I can tell it’s bright outside, and I don’t want the moon of light to disturb my well-rested self just yet. So I keep my eyes closed and turn my face towards the delightful smell. It’s a warm scent—it smells powerful and strong— _safe_. _Like home._ Like I belong here. Like something that belongs to _me_. I end up turning my whole body toward Rai’s in order to immerse myself in it.

“Ho?” A deep voice rumbles lowly in my ear. “Are you finally awake? You are one sound sleeper.”

But once I turn, the smell gets even stronger, and I bury my nose in it. It’s soft and silky. His hair. Long, thick strands—straight, soft, silky, silver hair. I bury my face in his hair—nosing around and inhaling fully.

“Oy, it’s time to get up,” Rai’s voice whispers. “We’ve got to get you started with sword training today.”

Sword training? That isn’t something I care about right now. Swords? Not relevant to my current situation. It doesn’t interest me in the slightest. I shift my body again, straddling Rai’s larger body with my legs, pinning him down against the mattress, rubbing my nose in his hair and in his neck—I just can’t help myself. This, right now—it can’t be helped. It _has_ to be done. He smells so good. I’m compelled to behave this way—I’d be able to resist and get out of bed if he didn’t smell like this.

I hear a voice—“Oy, bakaneko—oy!”

“You smell so good...” I say, my voice comes out soft and dreamy.

“Oy—” a surprisingly ragged voice comes from beneath me. “Get off me—what are you doing?”

But I can’t comply with those words. I _know_ my master, and that isn’t what he _truly_ desires. I know he needs my touch—he wants it, and I have to smell more, and then, I want to _taste_. Just a _little_ taste. I know he tastes as good as he smells! I remember from last night. I realize this is my master, and I am supposed to serve him, do as he desires, of course, and right now his words and his body are demanding two different things. So I’m going with what his body requires. Plus I can’t stop myself from just a small taste.

I stretch out my tongue to his neck and lick from his Adam’s apple to his jaw, and then from his jaw to his cheek. From his cheek, I move my tongue to his mouth. Then—I reach his soft lips.

“Oy!” Another useless protest from his lips. “Stop it. We need to get up and start training.”

Again with the training! How can he even _think_ about sword training at a time like this?

Silver hair spills around his face, framing his face perfectly. A single pale blue eye watching me with something like... uneasiness? Expectation? Concern? Worry? Whatever it is, it’s laced with emotion. I feel... almost powerful. His eye blinks slowly, and those long lashes come down in slow motion. I lean down and lick them, too, ever so softly, precisely.

“Oy!” This time a little more firmly, and I feel both his hands grabbing my shoulders.

A small protesting whine comes from my mouth just before I lower my lips to his. I want to taste him _more_. I _have_ to taste him, just a little more.

Just before our lips meet, I whisper, “Just a little taste...”

Our lips touch briefly, almost chastely, and I pull mine away. My eyes are open, my lids lowered, looking through my lashes, watching his expression. He isn’t fighting me, but he keeps his hands on my shoulders. He looks reluctant.

“Do you think I might _bite_ you? Do you _want_ me to bite you?” I smile slightly when I hear these words tumbling from my mouth.

“Oy!” A soft shocked sound comes from the cat beneath my legs, and I lower my mouth against his once again. I suck his top lip into my mouth, and then I take his bottom lip the same way, nipping just slightly. Such nice, full lips—so soft. Even if the rest of him is chiseled and firm—he has wonderfully full, plush lips.

I reach my hands into his hair and pull my fingers through it, pushing it away from his face, while I run my tongue along his teeth before inserting it into his mouth, stroking his fangs, as though daring him to bite me.

Though initially he is taken off guard by my kiss, his grip on my shoulders changes. One of his hands moves to my nape, and the other to my lower back—to my tail in fact, which I quite enjoy. Delving a little further into his mouth, my tongue brushes the back of his throat—making him purr, much to my delight. I _love_ the sound and the feel of this silver cat’s purr. It vibrates my body to my very bones—and it feels so very comforting(and maybe something _more_ than sweet, too) when I’m pressing my crotch against his body like I am.

He returns my kiss suddenly, pressing against my neck aggressively, holding the base of my tail so I can’t move. I feel his tongue exploring my mouth. I find it difficult to breathe and gasp for air. I grab onto his hair, two handfuls, and perhaps I pull a little harder than necessary, but he doesn’t let go, switching our positions, pinning me to the bed. I feel my own purr in the back of my throat, too. When he finally releases me, I take in a rush of air.

Looking up at him, his shiny silver hair sweeping against my face and chest, floating around me, and I let go of the handfuls I’ve been holding to play with the loose strands, brushing against them softly, combing them through my fingers.

“What am I going to do with you?” I watch the words form on his lips. “Such a distraction.”

My heart stops for a moment. The words sound kind and gentle—but—has my behavior actually displeased him? Much to my surprise, tears form in my eyes in an instant, and I start to struggle out his grip.

“You’re not going _anywhere_.” The silver cat says, and then he stops abruptly, examining my face. “What’s the matter? Are these tears?” His fingers caress the corner of my eye.

I look down slightly, refusing to meet his gaze.

“I’ve displeased you again.”

A small sigh is blown above me.

“Konoe.”

My name—from those lips—I have to peek at his face now—and I glance up without tilting my head, so I lift just my eyes under tear-stained lashes. 

“Gods, you are adorable!”

All at once, Rai’s lips crush mine once more, leaving me unable to breathe once again. The wet flesh of his tongue—taking my mouth like it belongs to him—like it is a part of his _own_ body—it feels natural. That strange thought appears in my head once more.

 _I want him inside me._ _I want you inside of me. I need you inside of me._

More urgent than yesterday’s thoughts, this thought has become a desire, almost a compulsion. Is it _my_ desire? Is it _his_ wish? Perhaps it _is_ his wish. But then I remember the feel of him yesterday—when he was curled up behind me, how large he is, and I feel another shock of fear—

_I need you inside of me._

And the fear diminishes little by little with every caress from his tongue. Strange sighs are coming from my mouth and nose as he kisses me, gasps that I can’t control, moans I can’t stifle. A plea? Am I pleading? Begging?

“ _Please_ ,” I hear myself say.

“Please what?” He whispers, pulling away slightly, his face right up close to mine.

Gods, I _can’t_ say it. I _shouldn’t_ say it. He told me _not_ to say it. Saying it would be direct disobedience.

“I want you inside of me. I _need_ you inside of me. _Please_.”

Shit. The words just blurt out, and I shove my hands in front of my mouth, unable to stop them. I’m far too late.

His pale blue eye sparkles when he looks at me, long lashes blinking slowly once more, the corners of his mouth lifted up in a slight smile.

“You—you are _trouble_ , aren’t you? What am I going to do with you?”

More tears gather in my eyes, and I plead again. I shouldn’t have said it, and now I’ve truly disappointed him.

“Have mercy on me, _please_!” I say, desperately. “The words—they just came out on their own! I-I’m so sorry. Punish me however you wish. I-I deserve it.”

The thought of him punishing me fills me with utter _delight_ and sends another wave of desire shooting through my body straight into my hips, making my body jolt and shudder.

“What was that?” He is currently pinning me down, lying on top of me, and his eyebrows raise in surprise. He felt it. I _know_ he felt it. “You’re fantasizing about me _punishing_ you right now, aren’t you?”

“ _Please_ ,” I whisper, dropping my gaze again, even though his face is so close to mine. _Please don’t make me say it._

“How would you have me punish you, little one?” His breath feels hot and smells sweet against my face.

“In whatever way you deem appropriate,” I say. “Whatever you think I deserved.” Another shudder runs through my body, jolting me roughly—his eyebrows raise even higher, interest piqued even further.

“What the hell was _that_? Do you actually _want_ me to punish you?” His voice lowers to a growl. “Are you thinking you would _like_ me to punish you?”

I cannot make eye contact with the beautiful silver cat hovering over me right now, but he boldly grabs my chin and forces me to meet his gaze. His face looks fascinated and terribly turned on—almost frightening so—his pupil is dilated fully, and his tail, which I see over his shoulder, lashing back and forth wildly, is even fluffier than usual.

“It is my wish—no, it is my _desire_ —to know exactly what it is you’re thinking, Konoe. Tell me, what _exactly_ would you like me to do?”

My eyes fill with tears once again, and I’m not sure I can actually say it, but I swallow and clear my throat lightly.

“I have not been a good servant to you, as I have been unable to fulfill your wishes and I have been disobedient. Therefore, I deserve your punishment.” I am unable to continue at my current volume, so I drop my voice to a near-whisper. “You should probably... take me over your knee.”

“Oh, ho,” Rai answers, a hint of mischief in his voice. “Do you think a hand-spanking would suffice for this infarction, little one?”

“I’m _sure_ it would teach me my place,” I say very quietly.

“Well, then,” Rai says, very matter of factly. “I mustn’t delay.” He sits up on the side of the bed. “Konoe, come.”

A sudden chill runs through my shoulders at sudden the shift in his voice and demeanor—plus he said my name _again_. I hop down from the bed and kneel at his feet.

I notice he is dressed only in his underwear, while I am completely naked, and my ears fill with blood. He is completely turned on—I can see with my own eyes. He is such an amazing looking cat—so attractive. What is he _doing_ here with someone like me? I just can’t understand it!

“Konoe, do you remember when I told you we would wait for the appropriate time for certain activities—till your body was ripe and ready—and until then, you were _not_ to tempt me further?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you feel like you are doing well, obeying me, in that regard?” 

“Um...” I don’t know how to answer and I look away, but as soon as I turn my face away, I feel his fingers on my chin, turning it back to his face, forcing eye contact.

“Let me put this another way. Little one, if I asked you to wait, and then phrases such as ‘I need you inside me,’ spill out of your mouth only the next morning, would _you_ call that waiting patiently?”

“Um, probably not.”

“ _Probably_ not? I would say most _definitely_ not! You are _deliberately_ tempting me, despite my request to temper your desire. I am _happy_ to care for your needs. But for that _one_ activity, I want you to _wait_ until your first heat. Do you understand?”

“My first heat? I don’t really understand.” There’s a short pause, during which Rai examines my face with an almost puzzled expression.

“What do you mean, little one? What don’t you understand?”

“I mean, I don’t know what it means to go into heat. When will I know I’m in heat? I feel very, very hot right now. So maybe it’s okay to say phrases like, ‘I want you inside me,’ for example.” 

“Oy! You just said it again! Is this _deliberate_ disobedience? And no, you’re _not_ in heat yet. The season doesn’t start for another week or so. You’ll definitely know when you’re in heat.” Rai blows a frustrated sigh.

“But, what if I don’t want to wait that long?”

I realize I’m rubbing my body against my master’s leg—rather lewdly. It’s unbecoming, I know, but I can’t help it.

“Oy, little one, calm down. You need to get yourself under control!”

“ _Please_ ,” I beg. “Can’t we just... for a little while?”

“Enough! Come here,” Rai growls. “Up over my lap.”

My ears flatten a little when I hear him growl. He is scarier than I expected him to be. I thought he might just tease me a little. I didn’t expect him to actually be intimidating or anything. Even his fur is bristling a little, and his fangs are poking out over his lips.

“You are scaring me,” I say softly.

“That’s the idea, isn’t it?” Rai snarls. “Come on, get up here.”

He doesn’t wait for me to comply but simply pulls me across his thighs, resting my upper body on the bed, letting my legs dangle off his lap. My dick is pressed against him, and he starts stroking my tail with _both_ his hands—one right after the other—and it’s completely taking my breath away. It feels so _good_ —and I’m making rather obscene sighing sounds all the while. He’s pulling my tail away from his body—hand over hand—in smooth motions, using a firm touch. My fur fluffs out in delight and I arch my back, his touch sending shivers down my tail into my spine, which makes pleasure pool strangely in my hips.

I push my face into the mattress, trying to suppress the sounds coming out of my mouth, but even the mattress won’t stifle the noise I’m making. His hands feel so _good_!

“You have such a gorgeous tail—your fur is pretty and lush—so full—and the tip of your tail—” he pinches the hooked tip lightly between his fingers, which sends a pleasurable zinging sensation down my spine and pulls a loud gasp from my mouth, “I’ve never seen a tail like yours. It’s so expressive. If I want to know what you’re thinking, I just look at your tail, and it gives away your true feelings. Right now, you're thinking...” 

He leans down and whispers directly in my ear, “I wonder how much this spanking is going to _hurt_ , and I wonder how much is going to feel _good_? Was it _worth_ it, provoking him? I sure _want_ it to feel good—I sure _hope_ it feels good!” He follows the whisper with a sound lick to my ear, as well, sending another shiver down my nape and back.

Then his hand cups my ass, and it feels me up, as though exploring my shape. I squirm against his lap, terribly self-conscious—a furious heat rising to my face and ears.

“Your skin is so smooth,” Rai marvels, “It heals quickly, too, despite how much Razel and Leaks worked you over. I see why they couldn’t resist, however. You have the perfectly shaped ass for this sort of punishment, don’t you?”

HIs voice isn’t the same—he doesn’t have the same calm and cool tone as usual. It’s laced with something else—passion, desire, heat—and the wish to be in control. He can cup one entire cheek in one of his palms, and he cradles one for a moment, feeling around my sit spot, caressing me gently with the tips of his fingers, slipping up between my cheeks, sliding between my thighs, making me spread my legs for him, driving me utterly crazy. The feelings pooling in my waist are causing an almost painful pulling sensation in my stomach.

I am trying to be still, but in reality, my hips grind against him, despite my efforts to maintain control of my body. I’m grinding my stiff cock against his lap in desperation. I hear something like begging in the air, and it takes a moment to realize the sound is falling from _my_ lips—quietly, but nonetheless, I’m _begging_.

“Please, please, _please_...”

“Are you begging me, little one? Your voice is so quiet, I don’t know what it is you want.”

“Rai— _please_ —I want—“

“What is it you want?”

As those fingers slip softly between my cheeks, just like they did yesterday, my toes curl up in pleasure. Then suddenly, his hand pulls back and slaps my ass, a perfect hit, right on my sit spot, causing an intense stinging sensation to spread across my cheeks and down my thighs.

I cry out—but he keeps his hand on my ass after the blow and actually pushes me against his lap, grinding my hips against him, which brings sudden and intense pleasure to my cock. He also strokes the skin he just hit with his fingertips, sending sweet caressing sensations to the area that was just struck, confusing the feelings of pleasure and pain.

My hands, however, still fly up from the bed, trying to protect myself, but he catches them easily, holding them with his other hand, pinning them to my lower back and also gripping the base of my tail—which he starts to stroke hard—making me lose my breath again. Then he spanks me again—another single slap to the center of my cheeks—which he then holds in place and pushes against his lap, grinding my body against his, making me moan with pleasure.

Before the next slap, he takes the tip of my tail and pops it in his mouth—so he’s stroking my tail hard, sucking on the tip of my tail, and _then_ slaps me on the ass—and then grinds my body hard against his lap—and I can feel his dick getting harder, pressing up against my body.

I forget to cry out when he spanks me this time, and instead, a desperate gasping moan comes out of my mouth instead of a cry of pain. I’m truly confused by these sensations, and I don’t know what to do.

My feet barely touch the floor, and I feel helpless when he spanks my sit spot again. This time, however, he pulls my tail—hard—just before his hand connects with my ass. He pulls my tail straight up toward the ceiling right at the base, which makes me arch my back and stick my ass out even more, he has stretched out my sit spot entirely before the smack connects, stretching out the area of contact.

It’s not a hard slap, but it’s loud and shocking, and the pull to my tail startles me. I feel so vulnerable—at his mercy—I’m unable to move and am completely helpless like this. At the same time, it feels so _good._ I throw my head back and another loud moan comes out instead of a cry.

“ _Please_!” I say. I really don’t want to wait. I can’t wait. My cock is dripping wet now, soaking into his lap. “ _Please_! I want you inside me!”

Rai suddenly throws me off his lap against the bed, a loud growl rumbles his entire body. The bite on my thigh is throbbing wildly, and I feel him behind me. He has me bent in half over the mattress and is pushing up against me, my legs slightly parted, my feet barely touching the floor, and his face is buried in my hair and nape. He is smelling me—immersing himself in my scent.

His hands wrap themselves around my hips, and I feel one grabbing my cock, and it starts stroking me gently—smoothly since I’m already so wet. Obscene sighs drip from my mouth.

He pushes my ass up against the bed a little further, lifting my feet up completely off the floor—I can’t even touch with my tiptoes now—and a shiver runs through my body when my tail is pulled up roughly, exposing my asshole.

I feel his lips and tongue on my nape—following a line down my spine—nipping me, kissing me, licking me—and I shiver with pleasure in response—not knowing what to do with my hands. I’m trapped under his body weight. Then, I feel something warm and wet—right at my entrance—gods—is that his _tongue_?

My body gives a small shudder, and I instinctively try to lower my tail and push away, but my hips are grabbed firmly. I’m not going anywhere. I feel Rai’s tongue enter me—along with pressure from one of his fingers. I cry out in shock, and in the brief pain from the finger stretching me out so suddenly.

His other hand on my dick continues its slow stroking. The movement isn’t enough to satisfy me—not at first—but then he applies more pressure, pressing his thumb into the slit, which releases more liquid, and also simultaneously makes another strange noise come out of me—I don’t recognize the sounds coming out of me at all.

I am finding it hard to breathe with his tongue wiggling inside me—and now, I think I feel two fingers back there—stretching me out, stroking me—and I suddenly remember what happened yesterday when he was doing this—and it seems like he’s searching for that same spot. I get very nervous and try to pull away.

But before he finds it, he pulls his fingers out, and I hear a rustling sound—and suddenly, something else hard—much larger than a tongue, much larger than fingers, and much hotter is pressed against my entrance.

I feel panic start to rise, and Rai whispers to me, “ _Relax_ , little one. Isn’t this what you wanted? Didn’t you ask for this? Me inside you?”

“ _Wait_ —just a minute—stop— _please_ —b-but wait—d-didn’t you say we had to wait?”

“I did,” comes his husky voice, murmured in my ear. “But even I can only take so much temptation. Are you changing your mind on me now? Such a capricious cat.” 

I feel tears spilling over the brims of my eyes and down my face—and I _want_ to say yes to him—and the voice in my head is crying out for this—but my fear is paralyzing me.

“Ah— _please_ —tell me, wh-why we should wait. Why d-do you think it was b-best to wait?” My voice is shaking with fear.

All movement behind me stops, though I can still feel him hard and hot behind me. Rai’s voice comes back much softer now. “What’s this? You are shivering and shaking. Are you afraid? Do I frighten you?”

“Um—” I swallow, wanting to wipe my tears and control my voice, but I’m unable to do either.

In a swift, smooth movement, Rai grabs my shoulder and flips me over on the bed—making me lose my orientation for a moment. My legs are still hanging off the side, however, and he remains in the same position, straddling me. I lose a little air from my lungs when he presses his chest against mine, lowering his face to mine, pinning me down to the bed with the weight of his body.

I can feel his dick pressing against my stomach. He is really, really aroused. I’ve provoked him.

I can’t read his expression. He doesn’t look pleased, but he doesn’t exactly look angry, either. The fact that he is displeased with me fills me with dismay, however. After all this—I’ve gotten this silver giant all worked up only to let him down—yet _again_. Now, what will I do? I don’t know where to go from here. My shameful actions can’t be ignored, and a tear slips down my cheeks. 

“Ho, a tear?” Rai’s finger brushes it away from my cheek, and then he lowers his face to mine, and he licks the trail the tear has left. His voice is soft and gentle. “Such a temperamental creature as yourself—prone to swift emotional swings—from lust and desire to despair? Tell me, what are we going to do with you? I thought a little discipline session would help you. But was it too much after all?”

He gently caresses my ears—and the touch is painfully tender—my heart squeezes within my chest.

“Don’t worry, I _know_ you’re not ready. There are other ways to satisfy both of our desires, you know, before we go down that route. Only… _really_ , little one. I don’t know if I will be able to hold myself back if you keep repeating that demand. Just—be careful, all right?”

He brings his lips to my face and kisses the trail my tear has left, leaving a trail of light kisses from the corner of my eye down to my neck, and I shiver from his touch. Then, he follows the line of my jaw back up to my mouth, nipping playfully, keeping his hands on either side of my head, massaging the base of my ears. It’s very loud, his fingers making a lot of noise in my ears.

Before he continues, however, he pulls away and looks at me. “Shall we start sword training, perhaps? Sometimes, when you’re excited and aroused, training goes a little better. At least, that’s what I’ve found in my experience. Care to give it a try?” His lips curve up in a bit of smile.

I swallow again. Isn’t he upset with me? Should I ask?

I look over his shoulder for a moment before answering, and his fluffy white tail comes into view. It’s waving happily behind his back. Does he know that his own tail gives away his true emotions as well, as much as he may try to hide them? Gods, I love that tail. I want to groom it—right now—but I need to comply with his wishes, and he would like to train with me. 

“All right,” I say. “I only want to be with you. And Rai—” I reach out and touch his arm.

“What is it?”

“Please don’t leave me alone today,” I whisper. I’m frightened by the devils, terrified of them.

His eye opens a little wider, just for a moment, and then he gives me a smile. “Of course not. I’ll get dressed, then.”

He hops out of bed and starts to get ready.

“Why don’t you help yourself to breakfast in the meantime?” He motions me to the table, and I give a giant stretch. I’m still incredibly aroused, and I watch him as he gets dressed. Gods, what a nice ass. And those legs—so muscular—like he was lovingly sculpted and is someone’s prized possession. He _is_ someone’s prized possession, in fact, I realize. He belongs to _me_.

I get up and walk over to the breakfast table—not a stitch of clothing on—and he glances up and watches me—staring at _my_ ass while I walk—and comments, “Oy, it seems I may have left you a little pink.”  
  
“What?” What’s he even talking about? But when I sit down at the bench, I know _exactly_ what he means. I’m sore. My sit spot is _amazingly_ sore. I give a little yelp and jump back up to my feet, my tail fluffing out fully. Is that _his_ doing? I didn’t think he spanked me very hard, so I’m genuinely surprised. Shocked, in fact, because at the time, it actually felt _good_. I don’t know what I should do. I rub myself gingerly, and then lower myself back down on the seat, folding one of my legs underneath me, using it as a cushion, my fuzzy tail whipping behind me agitatedly.

I look over my shoulder and I see a smirk on Rai’s face.

“What?” I ask, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

“I was just thinking—two things. First, you’re going to think about _me_ — _and_ this morning—each and every time you sit down today. I think I _like_ that—a _lot_. Second, I don’t know if you realize this, but something strange has happened to your shyness. Where did it go, all of the sudden? Is this the result of the incubus bite, or are you getting used to my company?”

“Ah—oh!” I look down and realize I’m naked, and I feel myself starting to blush again. But my stomach is growling, and there aren’t any clothes in this room for me anyway. I came up here last night in Rai’s cape, without clothes of my own. I’m too hungry to prioritize my nudity. Should I apologize? Is it rude? Am I being disrespectful, not covering myself before the earl?

“Now your ears are the same lovely shade as your cute little behind,” Rai remarks admiringly, slipping his shirt on, and starting to button it.

I ignore his statement and take a bite of the bread I’ve cut from the loaf in front of me. I’ve put a slice of cheese on it as well, and I pour water into my glass. Apparently, he doesn’t seem to mind, while my ears twitch and my tail flicks in annoyance. 

“Oh, did I make you mad?” He can’t keep the teasing out of his voice.

“…” I keep my mouth closed. I just don’t like listening to a running commentary about my body. 

I turn to look at him, just as he’s slipping on his hose. I don’t look away. He’s _very_ attractive—elegant in both dressing and undressing—in _everything_ he does. He pulls on his upper hose and garters and then puts on a damask doublet and a slim-cut velvet jerkin. The outfit is mostly blue with black accents, which brings out the blue in his eye, and includes elegant silver tinsel embroidery, which accents his lovely hair. Is this an every-day outfit for him? He looks so refined, so becoming.

He joins me at the table, sitting next to my left side at the bench—close enough to touch my bare leg, and helps himself to the food in front of him. In fact, he even reaches around behind my shoulders to get the butter, which is to my right.

“You could _ask_ me, and I would gladly pass it to you,” I say, glancing up at Rai’s face, which is only inches from mine.

“Of course I _could_ ,” he says. “But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to touch you.” He kisses my nose softly.

A small surprised sound comes out of my mouth, and his arm squeezes me in a soft embrace for a moment.

“Hush, now. Finish your food, and then we’ll take you down to wardrobe for some clothing. As much as I love admiring your body, I don’t think naked sword training is a good idea. However, whenever you’re in my chambers, you can wear as little as you like—as long as you stay warm—and I can help you with that. Does that sound all right?”

Strangely, almost on its own, my body cuddles up next to his. The silk, satin, and velvet feel so nice against my skin—so nice that I don’t even care about being naked. The hand Rai isn’t using to eat run along the side of my body—it feels good.

“Aren’t you angry with me?” I ask suddenly, glancing up at his face.

“What? No, of course not. Why would I be angry with you?” Rai says, taking another bite.

“Just—because—because I keep changing my mind,” I say quietly.

“Changing your mind about what?”

“Well, about… earlier. You know, in bed?” I don’t want to say it. I’m too ashamed. I look down at my plate.

“Konoe.”

I keep staring at my plate, and I feel more tears in my eyes. What is wrong with me? When did I become such a crybaby? I feel a soft caress on my shoulders—his tail—brushing my skin, and then his fingers graze my chin, making me meet his gaze.

“Look, that was my fault,” Rai says, almost urgently. “I pushed you too much. I wasn’t aware of the full effect of this incubus bite or how much it would affect you. It’s my responsibility to not take advantage, but…”

At this point, Rai strokes my ears again with his other hand, and the hand holding my chin caresses me a little.

“But I find you simply irresistible. I am simply too tempted. _You_ are too tempting. I’m sorry if I frightened you, little one. I didn’t mean to. I never want to hurt you, little one.”

Another few tears slip down my face.

“Oh, don’t cry, now.” He pulls me in for another soft embrace, and he pecks me on both cheeks, quickly catching my tears. It’s such a gentle gesture, full of tenderness. My heart feels full.

“Are you finished eating? If so, let’s get you down to wardrobe to find some clothes.”


	18. Hisomyia - Ryo x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, instead of escaping Karou on his own, Tokino's father, the merchant, trades his goods to help Konoe escape his fate as the sacrifice of his village. However, in exchange, Konoe ends up getting traded to the largest brothel in Ransen. Tokino swears he will save all his money to get Konoe out of this predicament.
> 
> Konoe is grateful for having his life saved. After all, he knows nothing of the city, of Ransen, of brothels, of females, or of sex. And he's about to learn it all very quickly.
> 
> This is a slavery fiction and pretty dark and brutal.
> 
> This is from Chapter 1, Konoe's first day at the brothel after he has been bathed and had his claws clipped. His handler is an OC named Ryo.

“Let’s finish up here. I think you’re fine the way you are—I don’t think you require any waxing at this point. Let’s just run a comb through your hair and you should be good to go. Then we will soften you up a bit. That’s my favorite part.” I hear a little amusement in his tone, which perks up my ears a little.

“Soften me up?”

“Yes. It will teach you some manners, our house rules, and teach you not to talk so much—like only when you’re asked a direct question. You talk _way_ too much now.” 

[...]

 

The groomer sighs exasperatedly. We’ve entered a second room, this one different from the first. It has a contraption of sorts on the floor. “Kneel.”

He yanks my chain hard, making me comply. I see there are restraints on the floor, within which my wrists are placed, palms up. My hands are still quite sore from the mallet, so I obey when he pushes them into the restraints. I’m exhausted from the journey from Karou and all the strange touching, though I’m thankful to be off my feet. I don’t feel quite so exposed this way. My arms are stretched out to their full length in front of me, and I end up leaning forward slightly.

Then the groomer walks behind me and places my feet in similar restraints. He explains, “This will make it easier for you to remain still. Eventually, you may be able to take the softening without the use of these restraints, but for now, these will help you comply.”

That sounds good to me, I think, although, once my ankles are restrained, they are pulled out behind me, stretching me out a little more, though not quite flat. I find my body starting to shake from the effort of holding myself in place, and the groomer suggests I simply relax, but that makes me push my ass up in the air, and I don’t like that position. It feels much too vulnerable.

Lastly, he grabs my tail roughly, pulling it hard behind me. There are two leather cuffs attached—one at the base and one around the middle—and then a kind of strap that attaches to my waist, wrapping around my hips. He feels free to touch me, stretching out my tail to its full length and severely restricting its movement. This is by far the most intrusive touch I’ve received yet, and I struggle against it. It makes me feel I can’t express my emotions, making me feel rather desperate. I start to feel a little bit sweaty.

I look at the groomer, and he has a rather pleasant smile on his face. I can’t see what he is holding in his hands.

“Are you ready to begin, little one?”

I want to get the hell out of here—but then I remember I was supposed to be dead this morning. My body is shaking with fear.

“The purpose of ‘softening,’ is to train our new recruits to be the obedient slaves that our clients wish to see. Now, you—you’re a slightly different case, and you may be permitted to be slightly wild with a client. However, you are never permitted to scratch, bite, hit, or injure him in any way. Is that clear?”

I say nothing.

“When I ask you a question, I require an audible answer.”

I still say nothing, and then I hear a swishing sound in the air and hear a loud slap, which makes my ears twitch. Right afterward, I feel a stinging, burning sensation on my ass—right where my thighs and ass meet—and it was hard enough to make my body jolt forward. I yelp in response to the sensation, which creeps up my cheeks and down my legs, and I try to move my hands back to rub myself, but of course, I’m restrained. I can’t move or defend myself, nor can I rub out the pain—I’m forced to simply endure it.

“I asked you, is it clear that you are never to injure a client? We have a long list of items to go through before we can display you this evening, so I suggest you submit. I can last a lot longer than you can. A nicely reddened ass will look gorgeous to our clientele, you realize, and give them ideas as to what _they_ might do to you for your debut.”

“I understand,” I say quietly. My ass is on _fire_.

“Failure to comply with the rules of the house will result in severe punishment, which includes whipping,” I receive another slap on my ass to demonstrate, and I yell in pain—it _really_ hurts!— “removing of the offending claws, should you scratch a client, pulling of fangs should you bite a client in _any_ capacity, even if you are _asked_ to do so, and so forth. The owner is very creative.”

I am listening with my ears perked up attentively. Pulling my claws? My fangs? I for sure don’t want to be whipped. But—why would I scratch or bite a client? What exactly are they going to be doing to me?

“What exactly is my job here?”

“Excuse me?” The groomer grabs my chin, tilting my neck at an unnatural angle. “Do you really not know? You will be fulfilling any desire our clients have—most of them sexual. This is a brothel. Do you honestly not understand what a brothel is, little one?”

I’ve never been to one before, and I wasn’t sure, but now—my nudity makes sense. I swallow thickly. Also—Tokino’s tears, his desperation, and anger make sense. And his father’s apologetic attitude.

_Oh, my gods._

I feel panic rising in my chest, and my heart starts beating rapidly. I can’t be here. This is _not_ the place for me—I am remembering one of the nightmares—and I feel something squirming in my belly—that yellow snake—the slimy feeling on my skin, and those strange waves of pleasure that pooled in my body—and I realize, this is _not_ the place for me.

“Oh, the look on your face—it’s _priceless_ right now. You look like a mouse caught in a trap, little one. If you can keep that expression, you will be our most popular whore.” 

A _whore_? Am _I_ going to be a whore?

I feel my entire body shaking.

“Back to the house rules. We strive for obedience. When you are called, you need to obey without delay, without hesitation. We do not care about your preferences.”

His voice sounds like it’s coming from inside a tin can. I can hardly hear it over the ringing in my ears, which are flattened against my head. He’s dropped my chin, and I lower my face to the floor.

“When asked a direct question, you need to answer audibly, as you have learned. Otherwise, we prefer our whores to be quiet, especially around the guests. It makes them more comfortable.”

My mouth is dry, and my teeth start to chatter—I wonder if he can hear them clicking in my mouth. Why am I here? Why am I restrained like this? I look up, taking an inventory of my body and its current condition. I’ve been thoroughly washed and combed, and now something called “softening” is being done to me. What exactly is going on here? Is he _training_ me? I am being treated like an animal!

“For now, you have _special_ status. Your virginity will be auctioned off at the end of your debut, usually one or two weeks, probably toward Antou, since that is a popular time for us. The brothel owner will have you on display for guests to observe your charms themselves, usually in the foyer when they visit their regulars. Hopefully, they will fall for you and you will generate interest. Word will spread that we have a cursed, black cat here—a young virgin boy—who is a little rough around the edges, in desperate need of training. I think that’s how we will market you.”

Market me? Like a piece of meat?

“Once your auction is concluded, you will spend the night with the winner, and then you will continue servicing clients. If you please your client, the owner may reward you. If you displease him, you will be _severely_ punished—and keep in mind, the client has the right to punish you as well. So it will serve you to please him.”

My heart feels like it is breaking.

“My job is to ‘soften’ you for your position here, mold you into the kitten we want to see, compliant and obedient. We don’t want to see drawn claws or bared fangs, and _never_ any growling or hissing. Those behaviors will result in immediate and public whipping. Do you understand?”

Did he speak of whipping again? What is this place?

The belt comes down on my ass again—it stings something _fierce_ —I yelp in pain. It burns down my thighs, almost reaching my ankles. I want to rub my ass so much, but I can’t move my arms. 

“Yes, yes! I understand,” I exclaim, forgetting that I was supposed to answer aloud in my distraction. He has wandered around to the back of my body, out of my sight.

“So, to help remind you that you belong here and that there will be no escaping for you, I will place a reminder on your feet. Count to ten for me, will you?”

I don’t hear anything—but suddenly, a sharp, stinging blow strikes the soles of my feet, burning them like fire—and I cry out loud.

“Ah!” I scream. What was that?? Did he say count? “Um, one?” I desperately yell. Maybe he won’t hit me again if I count, I think, but as soon as I say the number, the blow comes down again—hitting both soles of my feet a second time, sending a stinging sensation into the knuckles of my toes.

“Two!” I scream. My toes curl up defenselessly, and I try to pull my ankles away, but I can’t since they are restrained. I can’t even see what he is using to hit me with. It isn’t the belt—that’s for sure. The pain is much more precise, much tighter, much thinner—much more direct.

“Ah—Three!” I yell after another blow attacks my poor feet, right at the arch, and the pain spreads to the tips of my toes, pooling in my toenails, and then strangely starts spreading up to my calves. Right afterward, another blow comes down. 

“Four,” I groan—desperately—not even half-way through if he did indeed ask me to count to ten. I lean my body forward, trying to stop the pain from creeping up past my knees, which start to ache, but the next blow—“Five, ah!”—creeps past my knees. I press my stomach against my thighs in desperation.

“Six— _please_ ,” I beg. I don’t think I can take much more, as the pain creeps higher up my legs into my thighs. The burning pain seems to curl around the inside of my thighs, even though the blows are still landing directly on the arches of my feet. 

“Ah!” With that blow—I can’t quite catch my breath, and tears are falling. I’m desperately afraid of the pain creeping up into my groin, and I can’t breathe for fear. 

“If you stop counting, I will start from one,” the groomer warns. “This is for your own good—to teach you your place here. Learn it well.”

“Seven,” I say quietly, anger boiling in my stomach. _None_ of this is for my _own_ good. I am boiling with rage, and I feel the red snake roiling around inside me. Was that _not_ just a dream? Was it _real_? The sweat pouring down my face is anger, _wrath_ , and I want to bite and scratch the man causing me this pain.

“Ah—eight, nine!” I scream when two blows come down in quick succession, shooting pain into my groin. I can’t protect myself from it—it literally takes my breath away. 

“Ten—Ah,” I breathe in relief that this punishment is over, and I sob loudly.

I feel a hand stroking my ass softly, which takes me by surprise, but it feels invasive. I can’t move from my spot, however, with my tail and ankles restrained as they are. I want it off me, and I flick my ears angrily.

“The sooner you learn to submit, the better off you will be,” the words are whispered in my ears. He has walked around in front of me, holding a slender cane in his hands. “Your next lesson has to do with controlling the urge to strike out with your hands.”

I look up fearfully from my sobs, tears still streaming down my face, my legs aching. I get a terrible sense of foreboding from the gleeful tone in his voice.

“Please,” I beg. “ _Please_ , no more.”

“Right now, you are probably wishing you had submitted to me when I trimmed your nails, aren’t you? You wouldn’t have to suffer through this, then. What a poor little kitty!” His voice sounds oddly tender.

I feel a hand stroking my ears and I flick them down, feeling disgusted. I know my begging and pleading is useless, but it falls from my lips just the same, one more time. 

“Please.”

“Again, count to ten.”

Right before my wide eyes, I watch as the slim cane flicks down sharply against my opened palms, which are stretched out and restrained helplessly in front of me. I can’t pull them back, and my trimmed claws fully extend at the first blow—painfully.

I cry out loudly, tears falling immediately, and I sob softly, “One.”

Again, the cane flicks against my palms, pain shooting into the tips of my fingers and into my claws. I flinch and twitch my ears back at the sound.

“Two,” the word falls hopelessly from my mouth.

The next blow sends pain shooting into my wrists, it seems because my fingers' capacity to feel pain is filled, which makes me fight against the restraints holding me there. I wonder if the restraints will bruise my wrists. I watch as the strange tattooed markings writhe on my arms.

“Ah! Three!” I wince.

I shut my eyes for the next blow which sends pain up to my elbows, making me shudder painfully.

“Four,” I murmur quietly. It seems not to hurt so much if I don't see it coming.

I keep my eyes closed and the next blow shoots up past my elbows into my shoulders. I cry out loudly. That one hurt!

“Please! _Please_! Five!”

I feel my hair grabbed, my neck is craned upward, and my eyes fly open.

“Open your eyes and watch. This is the punishment you’ve earned. _Watch_ what you’ve earned.”

I obey, and right then, another blow strikes my poor palms. They are covered in bright red stripes, swelling slightly, my fingers are swollen and useless.

“Six,” I say quietly. “Please! Isn’t this enough?”

The next blow falls mercilessly, and I feel the pain burning in my collarbones. Again, it astounds me that I’m feeling pain there from blows applied to my palms.

“Ah! Seven!” I’m sobbing out the numbers now.

The next three blows fall one after the other in fast succession, and I scream in response to each, my body flinching each time.

“Ah, ah, ah! Eight, nine, ten!” I burst into tears and rest my head on my arms in front of me, bathing my arms with tears.

Again, I feel a soft caress on my bare ass, and I hear him whisper in my ear, “You did very well, little one. _Remember_ this helpless feeling. This is who you are now. You are completely at my mercy. Remember this next time you feel you want to scratch or bite or talk out of turn.”

He moves away slightly and says, “This is part of your daily training. If you perform very well for the clients, managing to attract a lot of interest in yourself, we might be able to skip part of this daily softening. But for the most part, you should consider this part of your daily wardrobe.”

My wardrobe? Daily? What?

“Why?” I look up. “Why on earth would _anyone_ want to see me like this?”

The groomer looks at me, shocked to hear me speaking.

“Did I permit you to speak? Did I permit you to ask a question? I certainly did not! It looks like we are not yet finished here, then. I _thought_ I would take it easy on you since it’s your first day, but we can keep going if you _insist_.”

My body starts to shake and shiver in fear.

“No— _please_ —I’m sorry—I just—I didn’t _know_ —I was confused— _please_ ,” I beg.

“Begging will get you nowhere, of course,” he walks around me, so I can’t see what he is doing—I can’t even imagine what is coming next, and my fear multiplies. The light in this room is so weird—it’s red—why is everything _red_? “Whores should keep their mouths shut unless asked a direct question. Again, let me hear you count.” 

I feel a sharp sting on my ass this time—and my gods—it hurts so much worse than the strap he used earlier. It makes all the fur on my body stand straight up, and I scream out loudly in pain.

“Ah! _Please_ , I can’t!” 

“Count,” he says firmly, and he hits me a second time.

I scream again, “Please—no— _please_!” 

“I _asked_ you to count,” his voice is lowered. I feel his hand rubbing my ass, and I can feel that there are lines left from the cane. “Calm yourself and _count_.”

I try to take a deep breath, and I try to count, “Two,” but he hits me once more—a third time—and I scream again—and he sighs.

“You are to begin again. Start over.”

He hits me again, right at my sit spot—it sends a stinging, burning, and tingling sensation through my body—and while this is the fourth blow, I cry out again loudly and say hopelessly, “One?”

“That’s better.” Then the cane comes down again, in the same spot—sending that strange tingling sensation through my groin, along with extreme burning and stinging through my cheeks and thighs. It reminds me of the yellow snake roiling around in my belly for some reason.

“Two,” I say softly.

The next blow comes down across my cheeks, and I scream again. No tingling there, none at all—just pain, sharp pain.

“Three,” I say, my voice quivering with tears. My ass feels large and swollen.

“Four,” even more quietly, after the scream for the next blow.

“Five,” whispered after the next, which sends pain shooting around the front of my hips.

“Six,” I sound hopeless now, my body shaking and exhausted.

“Ah—Seven!” That one was aimed at my upper thighs, which hurts like nothing I’ve felt so far. That skin is defenseless and I wasn’t expecting it.

“Eight,” I’m swallowing my pride now, sobbing openly, wishing this was over now, wondering how I even got here, wondering if I might be better off dead. I cannot do this every day! 

“Nine,” I’m starting to feel hopeful once again; we’re almost done.

“Ah!” That last blow was incredibly hard and aimed again at my sit spot. The tingling spreads through my groin along the burning sensation. I collapse onto the floor below me, whispering, “Ten.”

Tears have blurred my vision, my chest is wracked with sobs, and once more I feel a gentle caress on my ass. Instead of disgusting me, it comforts me, just a little. I don’t reject it this time. I have a slightly heavy feeling in my groin, along with a burning in my ass. It's confusing.

“See how pain makes your body more pliable, more willing?” The groomer seems pleased. “But we aren’t finished yet.”

Still not yet? I can’t believe it. What else can he do to me? I look up briefly, finding him standing in front of me.

“Yes, _this_ is the look—a wild, lost look for my black kitten— _that’s_ what I’d like to see.” Then he wanders away from my view again—and with horror, I realize only one more part of my body is restrained. He can’t mean to—

“Count for me, little one.” That honeyed voice sounds almost gentle, like the touch of his hand on my ass earlier. But the cane that strikes my tail is not at _all_ gentle. I receive an almost electrifying shock to my tail, one that shoots into the tip and into my spine. It hurts so much I almost don't hear the sound it makes.

“Uh—gods—no— _please_ ,” the words are pushed out of my mouth, but I add the word quickly, “One.”

“Oh, yes,” the groomer replies, an almost ecstatic tone in his voice. The cane comes down again, and I scream in pain.

“Two,” I manage to whisper—my voice is hoarse, covered in tears. My body relaxes down to the ground.

“This is more like it. I can’t _believe_ it’s taken you this long.” Another blow—I scream, but I keep my body relaxed and flat.

“Three.”

“Most new recruits are finished after their feet alone. But you—” he whips my tail again, gleefully.

“Four!” I hiss, the pain electrifies the entire length of my spine now.

“You… you’ve managed to hold out for so long. You are not at all what you appear. I’m quite impressed. I hope this will be enough to keep you in line.” And another blow sends shocking pain up into my back and shoulders.

“Ah! Five!” I don’t move my body at all, and there is no escape. I realize I am have completely lowered my body to the ground, relaxing it, submitting to the pain, to the groomer’s touch, to his abuse. 

“Yes, just like that. I will bring you back here anytime, give you as much as you need until you realize there is no escape.”  
  
Another electrifying blow rushes through my body—and I feel the green snake roiling inside me, responding to the sound of his voice. He is _enjoying_ this. But I do not feel angry anymore. My anger is gone, dissipated into smoke—into the sweat of merely trying to survive.

“Six,” I almost forgot to count. 

“If you do not behave in the lobby, if you do not submit to the will of the clients, if you growl or snap at them, I will have you removed. We will come back here as many times as it takes.”

Another blow and a small defeated grunt from my mouth. “Seven.”

“Worse, you may be punished for the benefit of the client you offend. That will be worse for you. The owner will show you no mercy. I do this for my _own_ enjoyment. To him, you are nothing more than merchandise. He holds nothing back in his punishments, for you belong to him. He paid for you outright and intends to get his money out of you, regardless of the cost.”

The cane whips my tail once again.

“Eight,” I whisper, in complete submission now, my tears falling softly.

“That’s a wonderful sound. This is how I _expect_ you to be for me—from now until you leave this place. If you move from this submissive posture, expect to be softened until you return to this position.”  
  
Again—another blow. “Nine,” I whisper, desperate now, though hopeless, realizing I can do nothing.

“You’re _beautiful_ like this. Still wild, but submissive.” His voice sounds strangely like encouragement in my ears—almost soothing the pain he is inflicting.

The last blow is applied close to the base of my tail, and it burns like fire. I scream, catch my breath and whisper, “Ten,” with relief. And then I burst into fresh, silent tears.

I don’t move when I feel him stroking my bottom ever so gently. It feels tender to me.

“Now, until you are trusted, we will keep you restrained. You are _not_ to touch yourself or pleasure yourself in any way. Save that for the clients or for when a reward is due to you. You are no longer your own creature. You belong to this house now.”  
  
Pleasure myself? What does he mean?

“To make this easier for you, I will keep your restrained. You will receive a new name from us. We will call you Mikage, which means ‘deep shadow,’ in honor of your black markings and unusual jet black fur. I expect you to answer to that name from now one. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I reply quietly.

“Rest now, until someone comes for you.” He releases my tail from its bindings, however, which I realize is a kindness. It droops rather sadly, painfully, from its punishment, shaking and quivering. I wish I could lick it. “Ah, it’s no more crooked than its hooked end. And just a moment.”

I wait patiently, though what else can I do? I can’t go anywhere. The door is behind me, and I can’t see if he is leaving.

I feel him running a brush through the fur on my ears and through my hair. With some degree of horror, I realize he may try to brush the fur on my tail as well, and he does—and it burns and stings where the cane has hit me.

“Keep quiet,” he commands. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my sobs quiet as much as possible.

He applies some sort of cream to my palms, which stings and burns. It doesn’t feel like a healing ointment. In fact, when I look at my hands, it looks like the red lines on my palms stand out even more against my pale skin than they did before. He applies the cream to my feet as well, and I twitch my toes.

I flinch when I feel him touch my ass with his slimy hands, and the cream stings much, much worse there than it did on my calloused hands and feet. The skin there was previously untouched and tender. I cry out, and I feel him slap my ass hard, making me yelp. 

“I _told_ you to keep quiet. Are you having a hard time submitting yourself to my request? Do you require further reminding of your submissive position?”  
  
“N-no, sir,” I stammer. I bring my swollen tail up to my mouth, popping just the tip into my mouth to silence myself. 

“Good boy,” he says, and he continues to apply the cream. It burns just as much—and I can feel every single line standing out from the rest of my ass—I’m sure each is bright red—and it is humiliating. I bite down on my tail until the burning dies down, biting down on my tail, making _it_ take the brunt of the pain.

“Someone will return shortly to retrieve you, Mikage. I will check if your set-up is complete in the foyer. You performed admirably today. Do not disappoint me this evening.”

I hear the door close behind me with relief, and I lower my ears and my body starts to relax. I’m exhausted. As uncomfortable as this humiliating position is, I’m so sore and I can’t fight how tired I am. I shut my eyes and drift off to sleep.


	19. Hisomyia - Verg x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it's Konoe/Mikage's first night on display, and he sees a familiar face (well, he recognizes his voice). He's displayed in the lobby in a cage, naked, threatened with a paddle if he growls or hisses.

There is no natural light in this place, so I have no way to tell how long this night is going to go on, and I continue grooming my sore tail and palms, but I cannot reach my feet. And my grooming isn’t really helping. The guests continue to arrive, much to the owner’s delight. However, I get a strange feeling when the next lone guest strides into the lobby.

He doesn’t speak to the owner when asked what his pleasure is for the evening. He simply walks right up to my cage and towers over me.

There is a strangely familiar feeling about him. I stare down at his boots, which are black, but his pants—well, they are odd. His pants look like gray fur. In fact, I can’t help myself. His outfit is so unusual that my eyes travel upward along his long, rather shapely legs. He is wearing gray fur chaps, attached to black patent leather pants with two long golden belts to each leg, and a third wide belt with an oversized silver buckle at the waist. But stranger still—his tail—it’s black, wiry and completely hairless—like a thin snake.

A _snake_.

I gulp, and my heart starts to race uncomfortably.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding. How strangely appropriate… for me. And all wrapped up nice and tidy in a cage. You look so perfectly delicious in there.”

That voice—I’ve heard it before. If I hadn’t seen that wiry tail, I wouldn’t have made the connection, but it’s a voice from my dream—the second dream with the yellow snake, as impossible as it seems. I’m _sure_ of it. My anxiety takes off in an instant, and my fur fluffs up dramatically.

I dare to lift my eyes a little higher, and I’m met with a tanned, sculpted, navel—grotesquely and vulgarly tattooed, pointing downward toward his groin. The tattoo seems to scream, “Look at my dick!” I look away, shocked and disgusted.

I hear a chuckle. “Like what you see?”

“No, sir,” I say quietly, rebelliously.

More fur and feathers flow around his body—his chest is bare and ripped—he is wearing an open coat to show it off—trimmed in animal fur at the collar, snakeskin at the shoulder, and fringe at the wrists. He finishes the look with black gloves. He has a rather handsome face, fangs showing through a leering mouth, but oddly off-putting eyes—one gray and one green, and a shock of short, white hair. And where his ears should be, he has black curved _horns_ —like those of a bull. What the hell is he? Is he a _devil_?

“You _remember_ me, don’t you?” I feel a hand brushing under my chin slightly. “I’ll give you something to you to _help_ you remember, if you like, Chibineko.”  
  
His other hand sneaks back my tail, which is agitated and waving around. “I don’t remember your fur being this color. Although it looks _really_ sexy on you. As do these markings. As does the nudity.”

As soon as his gloved hand grips the base of my tail, I feel an electric shock zap me and course through my body—and I let out a shocked, pained sound and a groan, when luscious waves of pleasure rip through my body, causing me to drool. I feel something roiling around in my stomach rather sickeningly.

I realize with horror that my nightmare may _not_ have been a nightmare. I really _did_ swallow a snake—and I think I might be sick.

“Sir,” the owner says. “He is not yet available for use this evening. We will be auctioning him off at the end of Antou.”

“Auctioning? What’s this? Can’t I spend a little time with him now? Isn’t this a brothel?”

“It is, but he is our newest addition, and we are auctioning off his virginity in several days. Please, you seem like a great new customer to have at our establishment,” he says while checking out the stranger’s expensive clothing. “Join us for the auction.”

“How do I know I will be getting what I paid for? How do I know he _is_ what you _say_ he is?”

“You are welcome to examine him yourself right here.”

“Ho?” The stranger turns toward me, and I cower, fluffing up all my fur. I do _not_ want him to touch me again. I’m afraid of that… thing. I know he is _not_ a cat. How can the owner not see the danger? He _isn’t_ a cat! I think he is a _devil_! Am I supposed to serve devils, too?

“Mikage!” The owner addresses me suddenly. “Your _manners_!” He is speaking to me rather sternly, and I realize it’s because I am growling.

Also, my entire body is shaking with fear.

“Sir,” I whisper desperately. “This person—he is _not_ a cat!”

“Kind sir, may we have the pleasure of your name?” The owner asks politely, ignoring my protests.

“I’m Verg,” he says proudly. And then he reaches into my cage and grabs me by the shoulder, sending another shock through my body. I can’t help the moan that comes out of my mouth—it sounds lewd and disgusting.

“Mikage!” The owner is beside himself. “What did I just tell you about your manners? Let the client examine you properly!”

“I tend to have this effect on the younger ones,” Verg explains, while I’m writhing in the cage, trying to wrench out of his hands, my fluffy tail whipping away from him.

“Get your hands _off_ of me! Don’t _touch_ me! I don’t _like_ that—don’t shock me again!” I yell.

“That is quite enough,” the owner approaches my cage directly, wooden paddle in hand. “I must apologize for his behavior. As you can see, he will need some training. This is his first night on the floor.”  
  
“Ah, you see, training is my specialty,” Verg states. “I enjoy it very much.”  
  
“Would you like the pleasure?” To my utter shock, the owner offers the paddle to Verg.

“Oh, more than you could possibly know,” Verg almost purrs.

“He’s _not_ a cat!” I continue to yell, my fear rising. “That thing is a _demon_! He turned into a _snake_ , and he made me swallow him, and he is _shocking_ me, and it makes me feel weird!” I’m shouting, I realize I’m causing a scene, and I sound crazy.

“Mikage, didn’t Ryo explain to you what happens when you misbehave in front of our clients?” The owner is speaking calmly, but he is obviously flustered.

Verg is smiling delightedly. “Are we doing this right here?” His eyebrows are raised.

There’s a knock at the door, and the owner unlocks my cage before answering the door. “Be my guest. Don’t go easy on him. From whence?”

“Hisomiya.”

It’s the last word that registers in my mind before my chain is yanked cruelly from my cage, but I hang on tightly to the bars in the cage.

“Ah, well, we can do it like this, too, Chibineko,” Verg purrs, pulling just my legs and lower body from the cage, leaving my upper body inside. I realize this is putting me at a severe disadvantage much too late, and I try to scrabble back up into the cage, again I'm a little too late. He gives my tail a firm yank and then shocks me another time.

My body loses power with this shock—it melts against the floor of the cage—and I have to press my entire torso to the cage to absorb the feeling and catch my breath—my ass is basically in the air, presented to him perfectly—and I feel the wooden paddle being pressed up against it.

“I never thought I would get to do _this_ to you publicly on my very first visit, Chibi,” Verg gives my tail another little pull, straightening my body up before he gives me a swat with the paddle.

My feet barely touch the floor—only my tiptoes touch and my legs flinch from that first blow. But because he has been shocking me—and where he hit me—right at my sore, caned sit spot—a strange sensation flows through my body. It hurts, but there’s another sensation, too. I feel myself getting slightly hard, and it’s terribly confusing.

Then, he swats me a second time—in the same place—and I cry out—I think it’s in pain—but I’m not exactly sure. He pulls my tail up slightly, but not too hard—and swats me again right away—and this time, I’m pretty sure what I’m feeling _isn’t_ pain.

What is this? Is this _arousal_?

I am still crying out—but what I’m feeling isn’t exactly pain, nor is it pleasure—but I can feel myself getting harder and harder. Anyone watching would be able to see my arousal under the bars of the cage. Gods—this is so humiliating—and it’s a _devil_ doing this to me!

Then, the paddle comes down swiftly against my thighs—and that burns and stings—especially right on top of the caning I’d received earlier—and I let out a scream, and I’m sure tears are ready to fall.

“Ah—Chibi—what a nice voice you have—sorry about that—but this _is_ a punishment, after all,” Verg’s purring voice murmurs softly.

Then another swat to my sit spot changes the sensation, making that pain shiver into something closer to pleasure, confusing me again. Wait—do I  _enjoy_ pain?

I hear a door open, and I realize Ryo is watching—he is looking at this spectacle, unable to look away. Plus whoever has entered from the front door is also watching, and I heard at least two pairs of footsteps coming downstairs—and I feel so terribly humiliated right now—and then I get another swat right on my sit spot—this one harder than before—but it has the same effect as before, only more intense.

Is it from the shocks? I’m not screaming anymore—I’m grunting and gasping instead—making all this obscene noise.

And then another two swats—one to my cheeks, one to my thighs—both sting mightily, drawing tears from my eyes and sobs from my lungs, and I want to reach back and protect my ass—and then I receive another blow to my sit spot.

That one actually feels damn  _good_. It burns and stings—and it also feels _good_. I feel my back arching up, my ass is actually pressing out and up as if demanding more. And the sound that came out of my mouth was not one of a pain, but a gasp of indulgence. What is _wrong_ with me?  
  
I lower my face to my hands, which are resting on the bars of the cage. I’m shaking with _desire_. I don’t know what is happening to me, but I feel something dripping from my dick, which is hard and straining painfully through the bars.

Three more hard blows—thighs, cheeks, thighs—and a small pause—and I’m sobbing loudly now, and I’m trying hard not to reach back and rub myself—just as I let go of the bars to move my hands back to rub the pain in my ass and thighs, I receive another blow to my sit spot—equally as hard, but this one shoots amazing pleasure through my body, shimmering across my skin. The sobs in my throat dissolve into a purr, and my knees start to shake and nearly buckle.

“You’re almost there, aren’t you?” Verg purrs. "You're _quite_ a surprise."

Then—a volley assaults me—a rhythm that I can’t keep up with—seemingly random at first—and then I realize—he is spanking my sit spot, then my thighs, then my sit spot, then my cheeks, then my sit spot, alternating pain with this painful pleasure, and the pleasure builds and builds, combining with the pain, the pain heightening the pleasure, and I can’t breathe—and my stomach pulls painfully, and I hear myself gasping and sighing—I suddenly lose myself—my vision goes white—and I think—I think—

I think—gods—am I about to wet myself? In front of everyone? What has he done to me?

A huge surge of pleasure rushes through my body and my dick releases hot sticky fluid through the bars, shooting onto my stomach and dripping onto the floor. My body jerks and shudders on its own—and wave after wave of pure pleasure—not at _all_ related to pain—race through my body. It feels so good!

I realize the room is eerily quiet, and my eyes are closed, and I’m strangely exhausted.

What even was that? Some kind of spell?  
  
I feel that demon is caressing my ass with his hand. “Was that your very first time? You really _are_ an innocent, but that was damn beautiful. Owner, I’ll definitely be here at the auction. I found out what I needed to know—you have a _gem_ on your hands—it isn’t everyone who can come from a paddling.”

When I open my eyes, I realize the lobby is filled with people—gods—did I just do that in front of all these people? There are hands all over my body—all over my ass, all over my tail, even touching my dick and that stuff that came out of me—and _so_ many voices. Too much stimulation!

“Do you think this stuff is cursed? Maybe it’s magic!”

“I’ve never seen anyone actually come from a paddling—is he really into pain or just really sensitive?”

“Did you think there was something weird about the cat who was here just now? The one punishing him?”

“When is the auction?”

“Where is this little one from?”

“Do you accept deferred payment?”

“When will he be available for regular servicing?”

“What sorts of services will he be providing?”

So many voices.

“Look how popular you are, Chibineko. Aren’t you glad I came to pay you a visit? Now, I’ll win your auction and take your next first time, too. You’re quite an addicting little vixen—I think I’ve quite fallen for you.” After leaning down to kiss my mouth, my cheeks, my nose, both ears, and shockingly, both my sore ass cheeks, Verg takes his leave.

That demon scares the living shit out of me. What the hell is he? Is he really a devil? What does he even want? My body trembles in fear just thinking of it—but that pleasure—gods—that was something else.

The rest of the night is fairly lackluster after that. I don't really care much about anything except wanting to sleep and not being able to. I am barely able to keep my eyes open. I end up falling asleep in my cage, I think.


	20. Hisomyia - Ryo x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little further on in the story, after our protagonist has scratched and bitten a guest, heavily dosed on aphrodisiacs: After Konoe gets his fang pulled, he's taken back to that tiny room for additional punishment. As per the house rules, he also disrespected the house when he bit Froud.

Shortly after my fang is pulled, I’m removed from the lobby. I’m brought back into the tiny room, my body still burning with arousal. I’m so sore I can hardly walk.

“Mikage, kneel,” Ryo commands.

“Please,” I beg, but I obey right away. I’m just hoping he won’t forget my arousal. “ _Please_.”

My ankles and wrists are restrained, but my tail is not. I’m given a small bag of ice, which I apply to face, so I can rest my face against it, icing the outside of my jaw. It feels a little better like this.

“We don’t want the outside of your face to swell,” Ryo sighs. “You stupid whore, what came over you? Are you _truly_ an idiot? Look at me!”

My ears flatten to the sound of his anger, and my exhausted body quivers fearfully. 

“You stupid animal. Couldn’t you have waited till _after_ the auction? Now _I_ have to punish you as well! Don’t you understand how this place works?”

“Wh-what? B-b-but—h-he p-pulled my f-f-fang!” I cry.

“That he most surely did, but your behavior also disrespected this house, and just _two days_ before your auction. I have been _warning_ you, trying to _teach_ you. Why do you _refuse_ to learn?” Ryo pinches the bridge of his nose in a truly exasperated gesture.

“ _Please_!” I cry.

“There is nothing to be done about it now, so keep quiet, and be thankful for the ice. Gods, I just can’t believe you! You’ve lost a fang and claw within 24 hours! I’ve never _seen_ such a stupid fucking creature. What am I going to do with you?"

Another irritated sigh, and then, “Lower your upper body to the floor and present yourself to me.”

Present? Oh—he means—ah—maybe he will spank me—and, oh—maybe it will feel _good_. I can only _hope_. My heart starts to race in my ears, in excitement rather than fear. I comply instantly, almost eagerly, with his command, lowering my upper body to the ground, resting my sore mouth on the bag of ice, my arms restrained in front of me, my ass in the air. 

The restraints holding my knees shifts slightly, and my knees are pushed together, raising my ass even higher. Hmm—this will make my sit spot a little more pronounced, I think, if I arch my back.

“Do I need to tell you to keep this obscenely fluffy tail out of the way?”

“No, sir,” I whisper, coiling it up obediently, behind my back. I cannot believe I am displaying myself like this, and my dick is straining, dripping, and my thighs quiver in anticipation.

Smack! 

It’s a belt—which comes down hard—right against my sit spot—and takes my breath away. It burns, stings, and it _hurts_ , of course, but I arch my back and desire courses down my spine. The sound that comes out of my mouth is a grunt, not a cry of pain.

Smack!

Another hit, in the same spot, and I arch my back again, the same grunt coming out of my mouth—only this time, it’s followed by a small sigh and a tremble.

Smack!

The same spot—and my back remains arched, and my thighs part slightly, eagerly and vulgarly, and the tremble starts before the sound comes out of my mouth. So my grunt and sigh shake slightly, giving it a different quality, slightly more sexual in tone.

Smack!

This blow is even harder—but I take it easily, and this time, my response is a quivering sigh, no grunt. My thighs part a little bit more, but I remember to close them again right away.

Smack!

The belt licks upward—against my sit spot and my left cheek—and I give a little yelp, and another quivering sigh—I can’t _help_ it. It feels _good_! My breath is coming faster now. I think… I think this might just be enough…

Smack!

Against my sit spot and my right cheek—and another yelp and sigh—and my legs open almost too wide. I’m afraid he will notice my pleasure now, and I try to keep my lips closed. _Why_ is this belting feeling so _good_?

Smack!

Ah—the sound that drips from my mouth is in _no_ way related to pain, and I’m afraid I’ve given myself away.

“Oy?” Ryo says suddenly.

I have my head pressed against the ice, on the floor, and I’m lying there obediently. He hasn’t asked me a question, so do I need to respond? I make sure to keep myself presented obediently as well.

Smack!

Again—it feels good— _so good_ —I don’t even notice the pain, which thrums through my body—making my heart race. I think just a few more blows should do it. If he would only go faster... _please_... faster. I slightly lower my hips, moving as though to escape the blows. Then— _please_ —

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Ah— _just_ what I wanted! Breathless, I’m almost there now—I’m starting to stutter, my back curved almost unnaturally, and my thighs parted, shaking with need. I remember to make myself cry out—trying to make it _sound_ like I’m in pain—wondering if I am believable enough and then once again, instead of arching, I lower my hips again as if to escape the next blow— _please_ —

Smack!

As soon as the belt hits, I arch my back, lifting my ass up and out, presenting it fully, so the next blow will land exactly on my sit spot— _please_ —

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

The belt rains down on my ass, and it was aimed slightly lower, but because I presented myself so eagerly, the strap hits squarely on my sensitive sit spot, and I feel myself being swept past the point of no return.

I lose my breath and start to scream, releasing a strange sound— _please_ —

Smack! Smack! Smack!

All that desire, the past day’s worth of arousal that has built up in my small form, has now gathered in my hips and waist, and it’s too late to turn back now—and _finally_ I’ve found the release I’ve been searching for—the release that Froud was tempting me with and wouldn’t let me have— _please_ —

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Arching my back a little more, just a tiny bit more, just one more set of volleys—oh, _please_ —oh, yes—

Smack! Smack! Smack!

— _please_ —I raise myself up to my arms as my vision goes white—

Smack!

A particularly loud, vulgar sound that is _not_ a scream of pain is released from my mouth—it sounds like a vicious growl—and I feel my cock squirting white ribbons of cum all over my stomach and the ground below my body. My body shakes, shivers, shudders with pleasure, but most of all with such amazing _relief_ —relief of this pent-up desire.

The climax isn’t _nearly_ as good as being relieved of that torturous desire— _free_ from being brought to the edge so many times.

I’m left shaking and shivering—weak and vulnerable, my breath coming in slow pants.

I realize Ryo is shocked—he is actually _surprised_. He _literally_ didn’t see me coming.

“I-I-I,” I stammer nervously, now suddenly afraid for coming without permission. 

 _He is furious. Oh, gods._  

“That was most impressive, little one,” he hisses, grabbing my collar, staring at my face. “However, you did not get permission from _me_.”

Tears fill my eyes.

“I’m s-so s-sorry,” I stutter, “I c-couldn’t hold back! It t-took m-me by surprise!”

“That may be the case, but _now_ we have to start again.”


	21. The Heat Behind His Eyes - Rai x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from my first-ever attempt at fanfic and is basically a retelling of the LBTV game from Rai's POV with some, er, domestic discipline added. I'm a little embarrassed after reading these, but a spanking is a spanking.
> 
> This occurs shortly after Konoe decides to follow Rai (as a Sanga), as long as he's going back to Ransen, and narrated in the third person from Rai's POV.
> 
> It occurs to me only now that I started writing fanfic to spank the shit out of this poor kitty.

They were walking quietly for about ten minutes, Rai casually swaying his bushy tail from left to right, thinking about the best way to get his point across to Konoe. Rai’s voice breaks the silence suddenly.

“Listen.”

Konoe’s ears perk up immediately.

“What?”

_Already he doesn’t have the respect he needs to have for training to take. I can hear it in his voice. I don’t want to quash his spirit, but for my sake, he needs to have respect._

“There’s a special bond between Sanga and Touga. I believe as we train and fight, that bond will develop naturally. But because you are a new Sanga, I worry about your attitude.”

Konoe doesn’t respond, but Rai feels a hostile glare at his back. The only sounds are leaves crunching under their feet.

“As your Touga, it falls to me to teach you. You can’t learn if you don’t listen or respect me. I’m older than you, have more years and many more hours of fighting and sword training than you do. I think that is obvious.”

Again, more hostile silence.

“I wouldn’t have offered to train you if I didn’t think you had talent, and if I didn’t think you could learn. But you are going to do this _my_ way. And you must have noticed I’m not a patient person.”

Rai notices Konoe has stopped walking. He stops and turns around. He is surprised at what he sees. His heart even gives a little leap at the sight.

Konoe is standing stock still, all fur on end, its glossy luster shining to its fullest, his fangs bared. A low growl leaks from his throat. Even his claws peek from his fingertips.

 _To see such a small cat in such a state—_ my _Sanga—the one who sang that beautiful song for me—I’m amazed. He’s adorable!_ Rai can hardly contain himself. His eyes wander to Konoe’s tail.

“You have a crooked tail,” Rai remarks. _Oh god, did I just say that out loud?_

“... What did you say?” Konoe registers a little surprise at first. He is _shocked_  Rai isn’t threatened and gets even angrier that Rai is commenting on his appearance.

Rai reaches out to grab it, wanting to put the hooked part in his mouth to lick it, but settling on ruffling the fur in his hand instead.

This action isn’t at all what Konoe expects, and the unexpected action causes him a surprising surge of pleasure, especially because he is currently so wound up. A loud yelp escapes his mouth before he can stop it.

 _He can_ feel _in the hooked part! Amazing!_

“Let me go!” Konoe snatches his tail back from Rai’s hands, confusion and fear mixing in with his anger.

“What do you _want_ from me? What are you talking about? Respect? Why would I treat someone like _you_ with respect? I don’t know you! You’re just some random killer!” He knows he is shouting now, but he doesn’t care.

Rai makes sure to keep his voice low and calm and approaches the smaller cat more closely, keeping his own fur from bristling.

“Brash cats die young. Didn’t you hear me before? I won’t have you dying on my watch. I want you to learn all you can from me. To learn, you must respect your master in all things. You must obey your master in all things. This is your first lesson.”

He takes Konoe’s chin in hand and tilts it gently upwards to make eye contact. Konoe instantly looks away, refusing eye contact. Rai’s mouth curves upwards at the corners slightly at this response and tilts his chin gently to follow Konoe’s eyes like he would a stubborn child’s. Konoe squeezes his eyes shut.

“What’s this? So stubborn. You _chose_ to follow me, didn’t you? Do you really want to learn the _hard_ way?” Rai lowers his voice nearly to a whisper. He can feel the smaller cat flinch at his words.

Konoe twists his body to try to get away, but it is no use. Rai has already grabbed him and pulled him in close to his body.

“Tell me, didn’t your parents discipline you when you were younger?”

Those words grab Konoe’s attention. He jerks his eyes in Rai’s direction. _Have no fear, little one. I won’t hurt you more than you can handle. Only till you acknowledge me._

While Konoe’s eyes are locked on Rai’s face, Rai takes the opportunity to pin Konoe’s hands behind his back and strap them together with the belt he’d unfastened when he first stopped walking, before approaching Konoe. Sometimes being a tall breed from Setsura has its advantages.

That’s when the panic sets in.

“What are you doing?” Konoe cries desperately. “Let me go! I haven’t _done_ anything! I haven’t disrespected you!” _My heart is breaking for you, young one. This punishment is going to hurt me more than it is going to hurt you._

Oddly, Rai feels a lump in the back of his throat and his eye is stinging. _This_   _has to be done, or training as a pair will never work out._

“Something you should know about me, your Touga, is that my parents were very strict. My father raised his hand to me for any reason. I never knew love or warmth. But that is not my intention here. I only want you to acknowledge me as your master and show me the respect I am due. Otherwise, your training will not hold.”

Rai sits down on a fallen tree log, one he’d noticed in passing just before the confrontation began, dragging the yelling and struggling Konoe over his lap. Rai sighs, seeing how angry Konoe is.

“Stop this! Let me go! Get your hands off me right now! This is bullshit! I hate this, I hate you, I never should have come with you! You’re a liar and a bully!” Konoe violently objects.

Rai sounds sympathetic. “I’m sorry I have to punish you. I really don’t want to, Bakaneko. But there is no other way to make you understand the importance of our roles, and what they mean. How else am I going to get you to listen?”

In between the kitten's shouting, Rai adds quietly, whispering right into Konoe’s ear (which is just as soft as it looks, he realizes with delight, as he deliberately brushes his lips against it), “This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.”

And just as those words are spoken—smack!

Rai’s hand comes down hard on Konoe’s ass.

Smack!

Again, just as hard, not even giving him a chance to recover.

Smack!

Slightly more on the left cheek this time.

Smack!

Again on the left, very low, right at the sit spot, where his leg and buttock connect. Konoe yelps loudly at that one.

Smack! Smack!

Repeating those on the right side—spanking his sit spot hurts Konoe more than anything he can remember as a kid.

Suddenly Rai stops and pulls Konoe’s bound arms up slightly behind his back. With lightning-fast speed, he shoves Konoe’s sash upwards along with his apron, and yanks down his trousers and underwear to his knees in one fell swoop, exposing his bare bottom to the chilly air. The spanking had already warmed him up, leaving his buttocks nicely pink.

Konoe’s silky black tail floats down beseechingly, and Konoe turns his head helplessly toward Rai. Rai notices the younger cat’s face is nearly as pink as his bottom.

“Please... this is...” But he is unable to finish.

 _Humiliating? Embarrassing? Painful? But absolutely beautiful._ Rai can’t help noticing and admiring the contrast of the pale white skin of Konoe’s thighs, round pink bottom, and black tail—white, pink and black—and his bound hands, resting at the small of his back. _So helpless and at my mercy._

Before continuing, Rai rubs those smooth globes softly, realizing he is purring, “I am your master. This won’t work unless you acknowledge me as such. This is where you belong. You have a strong will, and I like that. But you must acknowledge me.”

Konoe turns his face away in embarrassment, as Rai knew he would. And then—

Smack!

So much louder, so much clearer is the sound against his bare skin! Rai can see his handprint and feels Konoe wiggling against his lap, trying to escape. He can feel a sharp breath intake from the young cat on his lap.

Smack!

This time, the sound is accompanied by a cry from Konoe. His bound hands scoot lower, attempting to protect his naked behind. Rai easily gathers them up and holds them fast for the next blow.

Smack!

The sweet spot this time. Sobs burst from Konoe after this blow, and his tail lowers to protect him from the next. Rai puts the hooked part in his mouth, biting the soft fur gently yet firm enough to hold it out of the way while pulling the length of away from his bottom. He doesn’t want to injure that tail.

Smack!

Another sweet spot hit. A second honest sob leaks from Konoe, and he frustratingly tries to lash his tail.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Real tears, crying and near uncontrollable sobbing begin at this point, and Konoe is unable to catch his breath. After a few more volleys, the tail relaxes, his hands stop resisting, and he relaxes onto Rai’s lap for the rest of his punishment. Rai can feel him melting into his lap, accepting the punishment.

Shortly after Rai sees Konoe submit, he slows his hand. He stops spanking and gently rubs Konoe’s bright red ass, which looks like it is burning at this point. Strangely, Rai's chest hurts a little.

“Do you feel like you’ve learned your lesson?”

He feels Konoe’s hitched breathing on his lap, rubbing against his crotch, but he isn’t trying to get away.

“Y-y-yes. Y-you were r-right. I w-was dis-disrespec-pectful. Y-you are m-my m-master. I d-deserve p-punishment when I d-don’t ack-acknowledge you as my m-master. I s-spoke rudely to you. I ch-chose to f-follow you, and I n-need to resp-pect you. I’m s-sorry. P-please for-forgive me.”

“Well, then. It looks like this punishment served its purpose. Come here.”

Rai pulls Konoe up into a sitting position onto his lap and into an embrace. His pants are still around his knees, his sash has come unbound, his bottom is still burning red hot. Rai can feel the warmth on his lap, which he finds terribly arousing. But he holds Konoe tightly in his arms and whispers into his soft black ear, brushing it with his lips again.

“You are my precious Sanga. I am your Touga. I will protect you with my life. You are bound to me, and I am bound to you. I will teach you everything I know, and I want to see you grow. I only punish you for the sake of your growth.”

Rai wraps his arms around Konoe and is surprised—and delighted—to feel the young cat melt into them. As Konoe leans into him, Rai feels something strange in his chest—melting, warming. Rai’s hands travel over Konoe’s back to find his wrists, which he quickly unbinds, feeling Konoe’s arms immediately snake around him. Rai runs his hands ever so gently over that soundly spanked bottom, still warm to the touch, smooth and soft. Konoe shows no resistance; in fact, he seems to melt into Rai’s arms even further.

Rai can no longer resist the urge to groom Konoe’s soft, adorably large black ears, and so he does. He doesn’t intend anything sexual. This action is merely the sign of deep affection, and he wants to soothe the smaller cat like his mother did for him when he was a baby. He grooms those soft ears—both the inside and outside—and finds himself tempted by that hooked tail, but stops himself. He can feel the younger cat relaxing in his lap, and he delights in the sound of Konoe’s loud, honest purr.


	22. The Heat Behind His Eyes - Rai x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This incident takes place after Konoe has run away from Rai (despite his specific instructions) to attack Verg's shadow. Rai has been saving this all day and takes him out to train, as well as for further discipline.
> 
> Told from Rai's POV.

The moon of light is starting to set by the time Konoe makes it back to the inn. By this time, I’ve worked out a plan. I have my supplies in my pack, and when he returns, looking rather sheepish and apologetic, I surprise him by suggesting we train.

His gorgeous amber eyes, honey-colored in the evening sun, brighten at my suggestion. We walk together to an empty open glade I’d found while walking back to the inn earlier that day.

“Before we start, I have something to say.” Konoe’s small voice breaks the silence suddenly.

“What?” I ask.

“I have something I want to talk to you about.” He’s meeting my eye rather boldly with those gorgeous eyes of his.

“Speak.”

“After I tell you, there’s no going back.”

“Oh?” _This should be interesting. Maybe it’s a love confession?_

But then, he drops his gaze to his feet.

“My body... this curse is probably something more complicated than we think. There’s something else. Someone is plotting. I feel like I’m being tested.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know. Although it’s invisible, it’s an enormous presence. It could easily crush my life in the palm of its hand. You probably just want my powers as a Sanga, but you should know that something worse is happening to me.” With those words, he turns his face to meet mine.

“So if you really want to be involved with me, you have no choice but to shoulder that weight, too. It’ll probably be hard. That’s why—“ and then he lowers his face again.

I am quiet for a moment, intending to let him finish, but he doesn’t speak any further.

“Lift your face,” I say gently. “I should have said so before. Whatever curse may come, I won’t complain. No matter how extensive it is. At this point, you don’t worry about it. Everything has already been put into action.”

Nodding my head slightly, I continue, “Therefore don’t look back. Unless you want to lose your footing and maybe even your own life. I decided my path the moment I chose to train you as my Sanga. All right?”

I approach the smaller cat closely, looking at him in the eyes.

“If you have the time to think, then look ahead. Your true enemy isn’t some curse, a formidable presence, or a tragic destiny. It’s you if you give up. If you don’t want to lose, you must stay strong.”

I pause for a moment, letting the words sink in.  
  
“Do you understand?”

Konoe’s eyes brighten again, and his anxiety significantly lessened. He nods quickly and smiles.

Returning his smile earnestly, I say, “Good, I’m glad.” And I let a small comfortable pause pass before I continue.

“I _also_ have something I need to discuss. It has to do with respect.”

I can feel Konoe’s posture shift slightly.

“I don’t want you to fear me,” I say, facing the smaller cat. “But you must show me respect. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you grew up without a father?”

A huff of disbelief falls from Konoe’s mouth— _it’s such a sweet sound, really_ —telling me my guess was correct.

“That explains your inability to show respect for your elders. However, it also will prevent you from learning as fast as you might be able to. You will be convinced your ways are better, and you may ignore my experience, which is not helpful. This is why respect is so important.”

There is a short, frustrated pause from Konoe’s direction.

“I don’t mean to quash your independence, young one. So if you have something to say, say it. Just keep it respectful.”

“But I _do_ respect you, Rai,” sounds a whiney, protesting voice.

“No, if you respected me, you wouldn’t wander off, like you did today _and_ yesterday. I need you to _show_ me respect, as well. And I can’t seem to find another solution for this problem, except another physical lesson. I hate to suggest it, but you tend to learn quite well with your body.”

Konoe is standing quite close to me, looking at his feet, considering running again. I can tell running is still an option from his posture.

“Don’t you want to learn to put those Sanga skills to use?” I reach out and gently touch Konoe’s chin, tilting it up to meet his eye. “I want to teach you. I want to hear that song of yours again.”

To my utter shock, a small tear slips down Konoe’s cheek.

“Yes,” he answers. “I want to be a Sanga, and I want to be _your_ Sanga. What do I have to do to make it right?”

The tears catch me off guard, but there’s no stopping at this point. I’ve spent too long planning this now. I slowly guide Konoe to the edge of the glade, where a fallen log has conveniently fallen, and sit myself down on it. Konoe’s kneels in front of me, keeping his eyes lowered, but silent tears keep coming.

“I haven’t done anything yet,” I say, wiping at Konoe’s tears. “Why the tears? Do you fear me that much?”

“No, it’s not that! I just feel terrible! I ran from you, even when you protected me! You are the only cat I can trust, and I ran!” Sobs wrack Konoe’s small body.

A little piece of my heart comes undone hearing this, and I _almost_ feel shame for wanting to discipline this small cat. Are my intentions just? I _think_  they are. So I slowly and gently drag Konoe over my knee and lower his pants quickly—in one smooth action.

This gets Konoe crying harder, but he doesn’t resist. Resting one hand on Konoe’s naked buttocks, I use the other to drop the bag I’ve brought along off my shoulder, and I remove the birch, keeping it out of sight. Rubbing Konoe lightly, almost teasingly, I ask, “Will you need a warm-up for this one, or do you just want to get the punishment over with?”

Konoe stiffens on my lap, confused. He isn’t sure what is going to happen. So he says in a small dejected voice, face lowered to the ground, “Just get it over with.”

“All right then. Why don’t you stand up, then, your legs spread slightly, and brace your hands against this trunk.” It isn't a question, but an order. I also stand.

Konoe follows the instructions, his face flushing red.

I run my hand over Konoe’s smooth ass one more time before letting the first stroke come down. Konoe's ears twitch when he hears a swish, almost a whistle, then a smack, then feels a burn, most unlike the bare-bottomed hand spanking he’d received the day before. The switch will burn, white-hot and sharp, down into his legs, and into his privates, after just one swat.

Before he can catch his breath, he hears the whistling sound a second time, followed by a loud smack. He cries out loudly this time, in pain, as the birch hit him right in the sit spot. His face is red, and I can tell he is humiliated.

Swish-smack—tears and sobbing—he squirms out of the way, trying to escape, but he keeps his hands where they are. _Is it possible that it hurts too much, it is too painful?_

Swish-smack—swish-smack—swish-smack—I give him three swats in a row, with not enough time to breathe or catch his breath between each blow, or even let him scream—at least not till the last blow, at any rate.

 _Why am I getting off on this?_ I can feel myself getting hard through my breeches, and it’s a little disturbing. I’ve never considered myself sadistic, but the way this kitten’s round bottom is wriggling around helplessly is too sexy and cute for words. In my head, I know he is very much in pain, and the reason he is in pain is because of the strokes I am giving him... and that’s an even _bigger_ turn on.

Konoe’s hand starts to snake behind his back to cover his buttocks to act as a shield. The way he does it is so sneaky, hoping not to be caught.

“I don’t think so, little one. We don’t want to ruin your hands,” I chuckle. “Assume the position.”

Real tears and sobs are overcoming the poor kitten at this point. I reach out and rub Konoe’s burning butt cheeks—they are surprisingly smooth and so very warm. When I touch them, Konoe flinches in surprise, but melts into my touch, almost as if begging for a softer touch, without words.

I feel something in my heart as well as my better judgment breaking—I hear an audible cracking sound in my head—and its own, it seems, my body brings itself next to Konoe's, sitting back down on the log.

Ever so gently, and quietly, murmuring in his ear (I’d whisper, but it wouldn’t be heard over his cries), I ask, “Is the birch too much? Should I finish with my hand?”

The sweetest gasp is uttered from Konoe’s mouth—it’s almost a sexual sound—like begging or pleading—and Konoe is instantly on his knees before me. The small cat lets loose a string of sounds, I think they are words, that sound something like this:

“Oh please please _please_ , I _beg_ you, I’ll do _anything_ —I had _no_ idea how much that would hurt—it just stings _so_ much, all the way to my _knees_ and _feet_ , even in my _tail_ and back, and places I didn’t _know_ were even connected—it hurts so _much_ —but I promise I will never _ever_ disrespect you in word or deed again, and I will _never_ leave your side, and I am _so_ sorry I did, I just wasn’t paying _attention_ , and I’ll _ask_ you next time for what I need, and, and, _please_ if you would just use your hand, I would be so _grateful_ , I’d do _anything_...”

The tears are still falling, making his beautiful eyes even larger and softer and lighter amber, like a golden honey. This kitten is beautiful when he cries, when he begs. And he said he'd do anything? What a beautiful image. I never thought any cat could be beautiful begging—but maybe because it is _this_ cat, and he is begging _me_.

“Climb up on my lap, then,” I say softly, and Konoe complies obediently. Before bringing my hand down for the first slap, I notice that the birch has been pretty harsh on his pale skin. It hasn’t blistered or bruised, but there are red (not pink) marks from where the branch hit him, and those are hot to the touch. However, a punishment is a punishment, and I won’t take it easy.

I raise my hand and bring it down hard on his right butt cheek, which makes a satisfyingly loud slap. Konoe grunts, and squirms a bit under my hand, but the tears have slowed. The next slap is on the left cheek, same place. Another grunt and squirm. Next, I follow with a sit spot blow on the right, which seems to hurt quite a bit more, and earns an audible yelp with tears as well. The sit spot on the left earns the same.

I speed up the tempo just a bit, to make it clear that this is not getting _out_ of a punishment, only receiving a different _kind_ , and soon tears and cries are flowing freely. But Konoe is on my lap, and I can feel him squirming to escape the blows, which feels pretty amazing. But soon, Konoe gives in and allows the blows to rain down. He still flinches, and he still sobs and cries, but he doesn’t try to anticipate the blows or escape the pain anymore.

After his submission to the pain, for a while longer, I deliberately slow down the volleys. I offer several last very hard sit spot spanks ( _when you sit down this week, I want you to remember why it hurts and who made you hurt like this_ ) just before finishing. These earn extra sobs and tears. Then, I rub Konoe’s ( _oh so pretty_ ) pink behind for a moment as I pull him up to his knees.

It feels so good to have Konoe melt right into my chest, even with all his sobbing. I feel the small cat’s chest hitch, and to calm him, I take the chance to groom his wonderfully soft black ears. I’m rewarded with loud, wet purring.

We relax like this for some minutes, till Konoe’s breathing is under control. “We came here to train, little one. I just want to make sure our time isn’t wasted. Have I been too hard on you?” I’m genuinely worried.

“No,” insists Konoe. “Just show me what to do, and I’ll try my best.”

 


	23. The Heat Behind His Eyes - Rai x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rai’s POV—walking in the forest (on the way to the Field of Four Colors) with Konoe, he confronts his Sanga about visiting Tokino (frankly, touching him) when he was supposed to be gathering supplies and the interaction with the shaman. Rai is having issues with self-control and thinks Konoe should take responsibility.

We’ve been walking through the forest a while when I hear Konoe’s steps falling farther behind. I’ve not been doing much to keep the distance close for several reasons:

First, I _really_ don’t want to have him panting down the back of my neck like he was earlier today. I don’t need that kind of distraction. Second, I’ve noticed he has a fear of fire. He’s been keeping his distance, though trying not to show it. It’s such a childish fear—it’s tempting to tease him. I don’t know why I enjoy seeing him flustered so much. Third, and this is becoming more apparent, the distance between us has recently increased probably because he’s tired.

I’ve been trying not to think of that orange cat, whose hands and nose were wandering all over my Sanga just hours earlier. I’ll bring it up soon, all right—I just don’t want to think about it now. As we’ve been walking, I haven’t been able to determine if it got under my skin because Konoe didn’t tell me, or because it was another cat. When we stop, I’ll deal with it.

There’s a partly hidden glade off the path we’re on right now. In fact, that looks like a great place for this young one to rest his feet awhile and give me some explanations. Maybe we should rest there for the night.

They didn’t look as familiar as lovers, the thought pops into my mind unbidden. They looked more like friends or good acquaintances. However, I _saw_ the gleam in the orange cat’s eye. Glancing behind me, I can’t help noticing how childish that small cat looks and acts. Perhaps he _thinks_ they are friends, but that merchant’s son clearly wishes they were more.

“We’ll stop here for today,” my voice breaks the silence. The light from the torch guides us to a place a ways off the road. We need to be pretty far from the road—for reasons of both sight and sound, I think slyly.

Konoe follows obediently and watches me use the torch to build a warming, comforting campfire. I sit closely—I’ve always remembered reveling in the warmth of the fire—feeling like it melted something inside, perhaps meeting a need I didn’t know I had—while watching Konoe try his best not to cower from the flames.

Both of us start our evening grooming routine, Konoe starting with his arms. I’m watching him closely out of the corner of my eye, as he sits far away from the crackling fire. His pale hair looks nearly gold in the firelight, and I feel strangely drawn to the smaller cat. The contrast between those golden strands of hair and jet black fur attracts my eye in a way that I can’t explain.

But with every pop the fire sounds, I see Konoe’s ears flick around in miserable discomfort, noticing his tail is fluffed out cutely—just like a kitten’s would be—and I wonder how on _earth_ this child-like cat made it so far in the forest of the Void on his own.

Keeping my own face on the flames, I ask neutrally, “You don’t like fire?”

A heart-melting utterance escapes Konoe’s lips. He sounds shocked that his weakness has been noticed—and the sound unintentionally communicates his guilt, embarrassment, and disappointment in this shortcoming. How does he _do_ that with a single sound? It comes as such a surprise that I can’t help turning my head to observe the smaller cat.

Comparing our stances—me relaxed in front of the fire, warming my hands and tail, while Konoe leans against a tree, trying to be casual, but keeping as far from the flames as he thinks he can get away with—his fear would be apparent to any outsider. For a moment, Konoe stops grooming, frozen in place by my comment. Then, as nonchalantly as possible, which, in my opinion, isn’t at all, Konoe turns to the side, pretending to be at ease. He responds, “Not really.”

“You were avoiding it while we were walking.” I deliberately keep my tone gentle and kind. “Now, too, you’re shivering in the cold, when you could be warming yourself next to the flames.” _Or even snuggled up next to me,_ I don’t say.

Konoe’s ears droop slightly, and he lets out another one of those sweet sounds.

“I really didn’t intend to bring it up anyway,” I admit. I only wanted to let Konoe know that he didn’t have to keep up a front for my sake.

“I’ve heard that the fear of fire is an ancient trait our kind had—though it’s rare now since we cook with fire—and you’re the first cat I’ve met with this... condition.” I realize I’m being awfully touchy-feely and can’t understand why. I won’t even call it a fear in front of the young cat. What's _my problem?_

Konoe stays where he is, obviously embarrassed or possibly ashamed. _How did this cat manage so long on his own?_

“Are you hungry?” _Maybe a subject change is in order._

“Not really.” Konoe keeps his childish, pouting tone. I must have hurt his feelings. I try not to smile, but a knowing “hmpf” escapes my mouth accidentally.

The sound catches Konoe’s attention, and when he looks up, his lips screwed up into a sweet little pout, I toss him a dried kuim. I’ve noticed that those fruits are the kitten’s favorite. They aren’t native to the south, his home. As I enjoy one of my own, I wonder how he managed to get his hands on them—the thought crosses my mind as I watch Konoe take a bite.

 _So much for not being hungry,_ I think, as Konoe demolishes the fruit. That stubbornness is going to be the end of him—did he really refuse the initial offer of food because of my comments about fire?

I keep quiet for a few moments. It takes a few moments to organize my thoughts anyway. Once I commit, I open my mouth, backing away from the fire, inching toward the smaller cat.

“When we were with the shaman earlier, just before we left the shrine, he asked you if you got along well with me. Do you remember?”

Another childish noise comes from the young cat. Konoe looks up from the fire and tries to catch my gaze. I know he is trying to meet my eyes, but I keep my eye locked on the flames.

“W-what are you talking about?” Konoe sounds wonderfully flustered.

“The shaman called me a rude cat and asked you if you got along well with me. Do you remember your response?” Perhaps my tone sounds slightly dangerous, but I don’t change it.

“I-I—” the kitten is struggling for the right response. I _know_ he remembers, but he isn’t sure whether he should admit it. His eyes are full of question, and he looks beseechingly at my face for feedback.

“Don’t you remember?” I drop my voice, finally meeting those honey-colored eyes.

“Y-yes,” stutters Konoe. But he doesn’t elaborate. I pause a moment before continuing.

“Who was the orange cat you met with, in Ransen, while you were _supposed_ to be shopping for medicinal herbs?”

“Eh?!” _Gods, those sounds are just too cute!_ “W-what are you talking about?” But Konoe’s face is flushing, all the way to his chest. I wonder what color his ears were before the curse—maybe they were light? If they were, did they blush as much and as often as his face?

I move my large body next to Konoe’s, taking no notice of him shrinking against the tree trunk. “I saw you. Once I finished my errands, I saw you, and an orange cat, outside of the peddler’s shop. I think he’s the peddler’s son?”

“T-Tokino. His name is Tokino!” Konoe sounds desperate now, and the words start to flow quickly. “I know him from my home in Karou when he traveled there to peddle wares for his father. I’d buy supplies from him, he’d sometimes bring gifts, and he helped me once when I fell ill. He is a good friend. He was the reason I wanted to come to Ransen—he’s invited me to stay with his family many times, but I’ve never taken him up on it.”

The smaller cat’s eyes look a fiery orange in the evening light, imploring me for... understanding, perhaps? Patience? Mercy?

“I _just_ wanted to see him before we left,” he explains. “I didn’t know how long we’d be gone, and I was afraid I might not get a chance to see him again.”

My heart softens a little, in spite of myself, listening to such a sincere explanation. I feel a desperate need to reach out and touch this childish cat, and I indulge the urge. A little surprised by my own actions, I watch as my hand reaches out to stroke the oversized black ears, soft and silky, which immediately and defensively flick away from my touch. Undeterred, my other hand pulls the small cat close to my body for better access.

“W-what are you doing?” I hear a small protest, but I ignore it, lowering my face to the downy fur of Konoe’s ear.

“Tokino,” my voice purrs directly into the ear in front of me. My tongue runs around its outside edge. It’s thin and surprisingly delicate. Although I’ve groomed him before, this time, it feels a little different—I’m taking my time, moving slowly, paying attention to every detail of the ear in front of me, which is still doing its best to flick away, flattening itself against its owner’s head, trying to escape. “He’s _only_ a friend?”

Konoe’s shoulder shrugs up, joining in the defense of his ear’s assault. I think he’s trying to answer my question, but suddenly...

I hear a _gorgeous_ sound that is the exact opposite of childish, and it takes me by complete surprise and also takes my breath away. It’s a guttural, erotic vocalization—I never expected to hear a noise like that escape his lips. _What was that?_ It has an instant effect on my lower body.

I also notice Konoe’s scent has suddenly become more powerful, which unnerves me. I consider if I can continue with my current plan, or if I will need to make an adjustment. _Was that a response to my current ministrations, or was it in response to Konoe’s thoughts about that damned orange cat?_

When the image of the orange cat appears in my head, my temper flares, deep in my belly—but I hide it as best I can. A hint of my anger makes an appearance when my fangs scrape the tip of the ear I’ve currently sucked up into my mouth in its entirety. Another noise issues from the cat in my grasp—it doesn’t sound like a child anymore, either, and it’s beautiful. I feel Konoe’s small form squirming against me, almost as though asking for more stimulation, and _it feels so good._ I decide to ask again, the ear still in my mouth, muffling my speech.

“Just a friend, you said?” I feel a low purr in the back of my throat as I murmur the question into the ear I’m munching.

Both arms are pushing against my chest now, hard and desperate, Konoe’s neck twisted painfully to the side, his shoulder pressing firmly against my body as well, trying to escape the intrusion. While his body is trying to escape, the sounds dripping from his lips certainly indicate pleasure. And that black ear fits in my mouth so perfectly— _it’s the right size, the right texture, the right flavor, even—it just feels like it belongs there_ —so I continue grooming, roughly, ignoring all Konoe’s protests.

 _If he really doesn’t like it, he can seriously fight me off,_ the thought crosses my mind.

 _Wait—isn’t this about discipline? What am I doing?_ I’m feeling a bit distracted myself, and I’m irritated by the distraction. I’m feeling manipulated, that another cat has this kind of power over me—and it isn’t even mating season! _What the hell?_

He is probably doing this on purpose, probably to get out of any further discipline. He hasn’t answered my questions directly, either—the fact that Konoe might not be able to answer because he too is terribly distracted by the liquid, squishing sounds in his ear, as well as the response from his body, doesn’t cross my mind. Why doesn’t this feel like when I groomed him before? It’s completely different!

“Let me go!” Konoe tries to shout, but the end of his sentence ends in a sigh.

“You,” I say, the ear pulled out of my mouth, and the tip clamped between my lips now, “Answer my questions first. You’re being terribly stubborn.”

“I-I... w-what questions?” comes a small voice, from the struggling form in my arms. “S-seriously, what are you d-doing? St-stop it!”

I can’t help noticing that each stammered word come from when my lips, tongue or teeth make a move against that silky ear I’m playing with, and I love the response. In fact, I might be messing around and making him stutter on purpose.

“I asked, first, if you remembered what response you gave the shaman when he asked about your relationship with me.” I give the ear another lick, this time on the outside of the shell, and I feel a delightful shudder go through the spine of the small cat. Then, I switch to the other ear.

“Second, I asked about the orange cat you met up with in secret. Are you really just friends or something more?” Sucking the other ear into my mouth, I’m awarded another _wonderful_ sound and a sharp intake of breath. “And does he know you are only friends? It looked like he was looking for something more.” My teeth graze the edge of ear again. _I could do this all day..._

“Third, if you don’t like this, just bite me and get away.”

“A-ah, hah,” Konoe’s response is almost unintelligible. “Tokino is just a friend. We’ve been friends since I was young, and my mother was still living.”

“I think you are leading him on,” the whispered accusation sounds dangerous when purred in his ear. “So why did you sneak off without telling me?”

“B-but, n-no! I d-didn’t,” Konoe stiffens up, obviously worried.

“And the shaman?” I’m expectant, my voice low and whispering. “See? Here’s what I think. I think you deliberately rejected me in front of the shaman to try to humiliate me and reject my authority. Then, you sneak off in the city, trying to hook up with a secret lover—or someone you’re leading on, anyway.”

“N-no!” He’s desperate now, in more ways than one. “That’s n-not it! I m-mean, even if I could control what Tokino was thinking, which I can’t, I wouldn’t want him to like me in that way! We’ve never been that to each other!” The small hands have suddenly stopped pushing against my chest, however.

“Oh?” I stop for a moment, licking my lips. “Why is that?”

“We are just friends, and I’m not interested in him like that.”

“And what about the shaman?”

There’s a moment of silence now. Konoe isn’t struggling anymore, and I stop my ministrations of Konoe’s silky ears. _Although... I could do this all day..._

“Well?”

“Um, I’m sorry,” Konoe is looking down at his feet. “I was angry. Confused and angry. I thought I’d feel better after seeing the shaman, but I felt worse. I took out my anger on you. I’m sorry. It was wrong. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Oh?” I stretch the sound out a little. I pause for emphasis, then continue.

“I’m not sure that is good enough.”

“W-what?” Another gasp issues from the cat in my arms, and I squeeze him tightly.

“I think we should use this situation to our advantage, however, and make it into a teachable moment.”

I feel the kitten cringe.

“Three important points.” Matter of fact statements, spoken very deeply, directly into the damp ears, which I am now desperately trying not to lick.

“First, remember what we discussed last night, during training? I’ve picked up your burden with you—and I am sharing it equally. You are not alone. Even if you were discouraged, overwhelmed, and confused after the visit with the shaman, you should have spoken to me. Your burden is also my burden. We have a goal now, and it’s a common goal. There’s no need to feel alone, or isolated, or like the tragic hero of some legendary curse. As I said, if you have time to think about that, focus on the task at hand, or train to get stronger. Practice your song. Your biggest enemy is you.”

Konoe looks up at me, eyes full of awe, filling with hope.

“Second, I’m your partner and trainer. Even if you don’t intend it, you may lead another cat on without meaning to—and that is your fault. You have to take responsibility. If you want to meet up with a friend, tell me. I’ll come with you. Otherwise, who knows what might happen next time. Ransen is a city, and it’s not like Karou. I’m asking you to trust me on this.”

Konoe’s eyes drop to his feet. He looks embarrassed and ashamed.

“Three, I’d like for you to keep your tone respectful, even when you are afraid or angry. I’m always willing to listen to your ideas—for example, going back to the glade where we practiced bore fruit, and we found the shaman, thanks to this poet friend of yours. But when we discussed it this morning, your tone was... stubborn and disrespectful. And also when we left the shaman’s shrine, you were fearful and disrespectful.” I pause again.

“Honestly, what am I going to do with you? What do you think would help you learn these things? I have a pretty good idea, but I don’t think you will find it very pleasant. I’m open to suggestions.”

Konoe stiffens his body against mine—even still, his form just feels like it _belongs_ there—and I wait for a response.

“You seem to respond very well to physical reminders,” I continue. “I think a physical lesson would be an excellent way to enforce what you’ve learned today.”

_Plus, I’ve been frantic to get my hands on you—ever since this morning. This is the perfect excuse._

I hear Konoe make a protesting sound.

“I’m open to feedback, kitten. Do you have a better idea?”

“I won’t disrespect you anymore, I’m sorry,” a flurry of words spills from the cat on my lap. “I didn’t mean to give Tokino any ideas—I don’t know anything about that sort of thing. And I’m sorry I said that to the shaman. I didn't mean it. I don't know why I said it. I’m really sorry, it won’t happen again, but we don’t need to do this, you don’t need to do this...”

The young cat still has words and excuses pouring from his mouth as I lead him by the hand to the fallen tree trunk, where I have a seat. A sense _incredible_ wellbeing comes over me the moment I stretch his lithe body over my lap—and I feel only a slight twinge of guilt with that sense of wellbeing, but I ignore it. _Why does this cat make me feel this way?_

Compared to the other times, he isn’t struggling nearly as much as I push up his sash. Relishing the movement, I lower Konoe’s pants and underwear—the stream of words rushing from Konoe’s lips increases in speed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I trust you, I know you mean the best for me, I just don’t think this is necessary, I wish you wouldn’t do this, I don’t think it works, I will do better next time, and I don’t feel comfortable with this, and—“

The intake of Konoe’s breath is sharp as soon as the cold air touches his bare skin, and I run my hand over that skin, the sense of peace settling deeper within my chest—and I feel my pants tighten significantly as my cock stiffens. Konoe’s struggling on my lap isn’t exactly helping that situation.

Konoe’s voice rises in pitch, and he starts to beg. “Oh please oh please oh please _oh please_ ”

Is it the begging and pleading that I find so tantalizing? His voice? His perfectly compact body? I lean forward, over Konoe’s head, giving both of those oversized, silky soft black ears a long, slow lick—and shockingly, I feel Konoe’s cock harden against my lap.

_It feels so good. Oh, my gods, he feels good. What I wouldn't give to go a little further than this..._

“It’ll be fast. Not painless, but quickly I can promise. You just learn so well with your body—it’s your own fault,” I purr sweetly into his ear.

The first swat comes down—and because it’s on bare skin, right on the sit spot, Konoe gives a loud yell—a sob, really, with tears closing in fast.

The second is close behind the first, followed by the third, fourth, and fifth—smack, smack, smack, smack—in rapid succession—too fast to get in a breath or let out a sob. But the tears come, sobs come, all at once, and his small hands appear close to mine, trying to protect himself from the next blows.

“This won’t do,” I murmur, taking both of Konoe’s hands in one of mine and pinning them to the small of his back, simultaneously grabbing the base of his tail. This makes Konoe arch his back beautifully, which makes his ass stick out even further, and gives me the perfect opportunity for the next spanks. They are perfectly aimed and hard. The spanking sounds loud in the forest night—and it gives me a surreal sense of power—and that sends even more blood rushing to my lower half.

Watching Konoe’s skin change from pale white to pink, and then from pink to red; watching the round muscular globes shimmy and jiggle just a little; watching his legs try to predict and defend against the incoming blows; watching as the smaller cat struggles and then _finally_ —reluctantly— _but oh so beautifully_ —submits to the punishment... I haven’t ever seen anything more beautiful, as his tears drip to the ground, and his soft, earnest sobs and cries sink into my ears and my heart.

It isn’t that I want this kitten to cry, though his tears are gorgeous; I just love his response to my touch. After admiring Konoe’s submission—for more than just a few moments this time, I admit—I slow my hand.

I mean for my hand to stop spanking, and stop touching, but something happens. I can feel Konoe’s dick, fully erect against my lap. Instead of stopping my hands totally, I keep his small hands pinned at the base of his tail and begin to move my hand—rubbing hard, right at the base, just a small motion. The fur on his tail fluffs out instantly—and it’s _beautiful_.

I move my other hand over that cherry red ass, smoothing and soothing down from the lower back first, then all the way down to his sit spot—it’s hot to the touch—right between his cheeks. I notice Konoe’s cries and sobs have become something else entirely. That gliding touch elicits a noise that can only be described as indecent. I feel the smaller cat, rubbing himself—rubbing his crotch—against my lap—pressing himself against me, the most amazingly lewd sighs escaping his lips.

 _Oh gods, the feeling of this cat against me_ —I part his legs with my hand, and gently bring one of my knees up against his crotch, wringing another salacious moan from him—the young cat moving compliantly. I sit his lithe body up against me, pushing his nude lower body against my own hard, clothed cock, letting my knee press between his legs.

Konoe’s face is flushed so deep it’s nearly purple—his eyes are half-lidded, unrecognizable from the pouting, childish face I’d seen moments earlier. I can’t control myself— _I want to kiss him, I have to kiss him_ —and I fiercely press my lips against his.

I hear and feel Konoe sigh into the kiss, and it’s even hotter than my vividly imagined fantasy from earlier, feeling his compact body melting against my own. Those lips _are_ as soft and plush as they look—like his ears—and surprisingly, they return my enthusiasm with fervor.

Small fangs press painfully against my lips, so I open my mouth more, running my tongue along teeth much smaller than my own. Konoe’s mouth welcomes the exploration, sighs spilling further into my mouth, breathing mixed with soft, irresistible purring from the back of his throat. I stroke my tongue along Konoe’s, and when I release his hands, he wraps his arms around me suddenly, another desperate noise coming from him—a voice much too adult, too lewd, too urgent to belong to the small, rebellious kitten on my lap. The sound makes my ears perk up, my tail fluff out, my senses kick into overdrive, a shudder coursing down my spine. The smaller cat’s tongue is incredibly muscular and lean—compact, perfectly proportioned—just like the rest of his body—and as I stroke it, the shivers along my own spine continue, and also, rather fantastically, the cat in my arms. With each slow stroke, Konoe rewards me with a deliciously lewd purring sigh, offered right into my mouth, and grabs onto my arms as though he fears falling.

I’ve kissed other cats before, but none have felt this intense—but in the middle of moving my tongue back to the outside of those soft lips, my ears twitch suddenly to the right. Someone is watching us. Off in the distant trees, I sense another cat’s presence—and I realize immediately that it isn’t friendly when I sense a sudden bloodlust.

In a matter of several seconds—the most painful of my life so far—I gently move the kitten from between my knees, pull up his pants ever so gently—maybe I’m a little handsy with his probably painfully hard cock—and move my body in front of him. It’s physically painful to hear his small protests—he wants to _stay_ , he wants to keep kissing—and we stay connected as long as we can, even while I am redressing him—I _need_ to keep kissing him.

“Wait, no, stop. I want—“ the breathless words spill from swollen lips. “What are you doing?” Broken and sighing, Konoe’s eyes are half-lidded, and he is not himself—looking drunk or semi-conscious—but definitely not himself.

 _Oh, gods, that bastard who just interrupted that amazing experience is about to experience the extent of my full wrath._  I cannot believe what just happened, and how we went from discipline to _that_ in a matter of seconds. But oh, what I wouldn’t give to get back there right now because I am _not_ finished, we were _seriously_ interrupted, I want his _heat_ , and man, my pants are too fucking  _tight_. I am so angry that my usual bloodlust has quickly reached its boiling point.

However, my anger cools sensibly once I feel an incredibly foreign bloodlust pulsing from the unknown presence in the forest. Instead, my usual fighting spirit takes over. I draw both my dagger and longsword and assume a fighting stance, assuring myself Konoe is safe, and I wait for the enemy to show himself.


	24. At Your Convenience - Rai x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a more light-hearted series of mine based on the AU at Lamento's convenience store drama. And of course, Rai ends up spanking his employee for insubordination. Because--well, what else do you use an office for?
> 
> Konoe's second day at the Lamento Convenience Store - and he wakes up to breakfast.
> 
> While his day starts well, he gets into a power struggle with his boss, and things turn out quite differently than he anticipates.

I wake to a nice smell—hot tea and omelet rice, the nice warm smell wafting into my nose, waiting for me next to the futon. Plus there'sa cup filled with a freshly sliced kuim, topped with whipped cream.

I cannot remember the last time someone made me breakfast—but it must have been while Mom was still living. Tears burn the back of my eyes, and a few sneak out of the corners and down my cheeks. I wipe them away impatiently and dig in while the food is still hot.

It’s ready-made convenience store food, but I don’t care. It’s the best meal I’ve had in a long time because I didn’t make it myself. As I’m eating, it occurs to me only one person could have made it: my boss. 

_Why would he do that?_

I think if he were older, it would feel like he was looking after me—but as it is, now I am getting the wrong idea. He couldn’t be _interested_ in me, could he? That can't be right, is it? He’s much too attractive, for one thing.

I mean, he’s _really_ good looking. My body went through some kind of change nearly six months ago—I had to stay indoors for an entire week. At first, I thought it was a bad cold or flu. I was miserable. At the time, I was still in Karou. I was afraid to set foot outside my house, though I felt almost compelled to go outside—like my body was searching for something—and now that I’ve laid eyes on that silver cat, I realize _exactly_ what I was looking for.

Tokino asked me about it, afterward—he called it the mating season—and I brushed it off at first as him teasing me. Is that what my body was trying to do, look for a partner? There were so few females in Karou—and none I knew personally.

I’ve seen a few human females since I have been in Toshima, some quite pretty. They remind me of Ribika, just without tails and with strange ears. And they seem weirdly fascinated by me. I try to stay away from them, though. They make me nervous, and they don’t seem to realize that touching me makes me uncomfortable or, worst case, arouses me. 

I saw a cat cafe in town—and I thought about asking for work there. I’m sure I could get hired. But I peeked in the window, and I don’t think I could tolerate the work without biting or scratching a customer. People just don’t know when to stop their excessive touching. And humans just keep on going! They don’t have tails or fur, I guess.

I mean, yesterday both Rai and Bardo felt free to touch me. Rai even seemed possessive about it, especially when he saw Bardo touching me. It’s like he considers me his employee and therefore his property. But that may just be because they are on bad terms, for whatever reason. However, they are both cats, and so they know how to touch another cat without going overboard. Still, I wouldn’t so far to say their touching me feels _normal_.

Far be it from me to say what _is_ normal. I lived an isolated life in Karou. Maybe in other villages, this kind of touching _is_ normal.

Now I’m finished with breakfast, so I stretch out my body and start grooming. The first thing I notice is that I don’t smell right. I don’t smell like myself. It’s not an _unpleasant_ scent—not at all. In fact, it smells really good—but this is still unnerving. I know I was licked a few times yesterday, but that wouldn’t be enough to leave _this_ much of Rai’s scent on me.

I sniff the futon I slept in last night. It smells a _little_ like him, but not nearly enough to make _me_ smell like him. So—what could it be? What could have happened? Could he have groomed me while I slept? The thought frightens me—and _thrills_ me—in equal measures. I get a little shiver down my spine at the thought and my body freezes up, right when I’m grooming the length of my tail—which _also_ smells like my boss—when I imagine myself completely vulnerable, Rai’s large and perfect body curled up behind me, taking long licks along my tail with his tongue.

What the hell?! Is _that_ normal behavior? I don’t think so—I mean, even back in Karou, when Tokino would spend the night after a long day of traveling, he would _never_ do such a thing... 

But then my mind flashes back to another memory. It had been pouring rain, and both of us were soaked to the skin. It was a spring storm, and the rain was cold. I offered Tokino to stay overnight, giving him my bed. I curled up on the floor. I remember waking up in my bed. He said he had moved me in the night, after I had fallen asleep. I had been shivering, he said, and he was afraid I’d catch a cold. But the rest of that day—even after he had returned to Ransen—I smelled like him whenever I groomed myself.

I wonder if that was normal behavior, and I just didn't know about it, since I’d been alone so long. But how do I behave afterward? Do I acknowledge it? Ignore it? Reciprocate? Gods—I can't imagine! But does he expect me to? 

As I’m grooming myself anxiously, noticing with envy that the fur on my tail seems awfully smooth. It makes sense if Rai has such long fur, he’s probably very good at grooming and his tongue is certainly rougher than mine. I remember that from when he licked my ears yesterday. I’m so distracted and anxious that I don’t notice when the door opens, and Rai pokes his head in. 

“You’re finally awake.”

He speaks softly but it scares me out of my wits nevertheless, and I jump off the futon to my feet, my fur bristled. It almost looks like he caught me doing something untoward, and I blush.

“Oh—sorry—didn’t mean to startle you.” That pale blue eye takes me in curiously, interested. Of course, he would be interested—a Ribika’s eye is naturally drawn toward movement, and I’m the smaller animal here, behaving like prey. I need to get a hold of myself!

“Ah, no—it’s fine. I was just—um, distracted,” I say, embarrassed. “Oh, um, thank you for breakfast.” 

“It’s no big deal. I made something for myself as well,” Rai brushes it off casually. “Sleep okay?”

“I did, thank you.” I find it hard to meet his gaze—probably because I keep thinking about him grooming me while I slept. Part of me wonders what _else_ he did to me, or what he _might_ have been able to do. Did he touch me? Where? Why would he even _want_ to? Does he find me attractive or is he just trying to unnerve me?

“Do you need anything before your shift starts?” His voice is totally normal—friendly almost.

“I’m good, thanks.” I stand up to head out to the register and grab my apron.

“Let me help you.”

“It’s all right. I can do it,” I say, my voice slightly strained. I'm not sure I want him to touch me.

“Let me,” he insists, taking the apron from my hands and looping it over my neck. He pulls the apron strings to get me to turn around, and I feel myself blushing again. Today, he ties a bow right above my tail. “There we go. All set. We could use a fresh pot of coffee.” He gently pats my ass, and I flick my tail as I walk over to the counter.

I lower my ears slightly, wondering if _that_ was normal. Do other cats touch each other so much—like _that_ —on the ass? I put the coffee on after grinding the beans. 

“Would you like a cup?” I ask, trying to be helpful. 

“Sure, when it’s done, thanks. I’ve got some paperwork to finish.” He wanders back to his office, his tail swaying elegantly, leaving the door open. 

Customers start coming in, buying morning energy drinks, soda, canned coffee, hot tea, and some waiting for the freshly brewed coffee. I manage to pour Rai a cup between customers, but I don’t know how he likes it. I take a guess and add a little cream and bring the mug to his office.

He looks up from his desk—and he’s wearing a pair of reading glasses. They look surprisingly cute, actually, and I can’t suppress a little gasp of delight when I see his face. Adorable! 

“Um, I-I d-didn’t know how you t-take your coffee, so I, um, added a little c-cream,” I stammer shyly, unable to take my eyes off his face. He's flustering me again. Glasses! He looks so smart! “C-cream m-makes everything better, doesn’t it?”

“Perfect—thanks so much,” Rai says, giving me a soft smile.

“Of course,” I answer, and I dawdle just a bit, dragging my foot on the carpet. I find I want to stay and watch him do the paperwork. I find this glasses-Rai slightly fascinating—but there are customers in the store I have to attend to.

The creepy guy with the eyepatch comes in again, asking for another Kuim Parfait.

“It’s nice to see you, kitten. I hope your day is going well.” His voice is silky and smooth, and he smiles broadly at me. It's too early to deal with him. I'd much rather ogle my boss.

I realize he’s watching me awfully closely as I’m making the parfait—it makes me think there’s something stuck to my back or something. 

I forget to call him master, and he is immediately offended. What a weirdo!

“Didn’t I ask you to call me _master_ , kitten?”

“Oh—I apologize, sir, er, master,” I reply, now flustered. It’s really awkward. My ears are getting hot.

“It just adds to my experience, after all. It makes my day go so much more smoothly, you see.” When I turn to glance at him, he's staring at my ears. Ugh—they must be blushing!

He is much taller than I expect. At this point, he leans across the counter and grabs my tail while I am preparing his parfait. It makes me bristle and jump, and I give a little yelp.

“Oh, how _cute_! What an innocent little response! I know you’d do _so_ well at my club! Have you given it some thought, dear? You could really make some good money!” 

“Given what any more thought, master?” I flick my tail away from the customer and try to concentrate on the parfait.

“Working for _me_ , of course, kitten! _Work_ for me! Even if you just try it for an evening—you’ll _love_ the attention—my clients will _spoil_ you with lavish food and all the drinks you can handle, a comfortable place to sleep—and pleasure you can’t even imagine—”

“That’s enough,” Rai says, his voice quiet and cool, appearing as though by magic. “I’d ask you to refrain from poaching my staff. Konoe works for _me_ , and his contract is exclusive. He wouldn’t have time to work for you, nor does he have interest.”

“Hou?” Master says, looking down his nose at Rai. “Shouldn’t _he_ be the one to decide that?” 

“He already did—when he started working for me,” Rai growls softly. “His job benefits include protections against predatory behavior and customers. You’re welcome to shop here, but I’ll ask you to refrain from harassing my staff.”

“Or _what_?” The customer has his hands boldly planted on his hips.

“Or I’ll ask you to shop elsewhere,” Rai says plainly.

I’m a little surprised to hear him say this, and I look up at him from my work. I interrupt their conversation before this gets any more heated. 

“Master, the parfait is all finished. Would you like a cup of coffee as well?”

“Please, my dear,” he speaks to me, though the customer is still eyeing Rai carefully, who, it seems, has not even blinked. “You know _just_ how I like it.” Even how he says that phrase is vulgar, I realize, and I hear Rai growl lowly.

He finally takes his parfait and coffee and leaves, though—and Rai is standing off to the side, watching and growling. I’m actually kind of thankful he is here.

“Listen, Konoe,” Rai says sharply. “Make sure you don’t find yourself alone with that guy. If I’m in my office when he comes in, push the button below the register there, and I’ll come out.”

“I can handle myself,” I say. “I’ll be fine. And _you_ shouldn’t be so rude to the customers. It’s not good for business.” 

“That was _not_ a request.” His voice is much lower than it was, and he sounds almost angry. His ears fluff up. “Are _you_ telling _me_ how to run my shop? You don’t know the humans around here. He may have plans to take you with him without your consent. He could drug you, giving you no choice.” 

My ears flatten fearfully when I hear this.

“Are you serious?”

“I would never joke about something like this. I know his type. Just stay out of his way.”

“Okay,” I say. I feel slightly uncomfortable. “Still, that was _awfully_ rude.”

Rai gives me a look—a frightening look—and I’m reminded suddenly of what Tokino told me about Rai’s temper. I regret saying anything at all, but I’m saved by the sound of a loud motorcycle pulling up—right on the sidewalk. It drips motor oil right in front of the front door. I really hope Rai doesn’t notice, or he may truly flip his lid.

It's that weird man in black, coming in again for water, and he buys the same kind he bought yesterday. I wonder if he is enjoying its cleansing benefits. Today, when he pays at the register, I notice him having some kind of staring contest with Rai.

So it’s no _wonder_ Rai needs help with customer service! I feel slightly exasperated and hot under my collar. 

When he leaves, I look up at my boss and say, “You know, that kind of staring is considered _rude_ to humans.”

“I don’t think so,” Rai says calmly. “That guy—he’s killed a lot of people. I can _smell_ it on him. He’s a predator. With his type, you have to maintain eye contact or else you may become his prey.”

My fur bristles when he says that, because I felt the same thing when I saw his red eyes yesterday—but I dropped my gaze so as not to agitate him. But then I wonder how the _hell_ Rai would know something like that.

“Still, it’s _rude_ ,” I insist. “It’s no _wonder_ you need me around here,” I mutter under my breath—but he hears me.

“I do—need someone like you,” he murmurs, looking at me. “I just didn’t expect you to have quite so vocal of an opinion as to my _own_ behavior. It’s disrespectful.”

“What?” I’m confused. Does he want my help or not? “Have you owned this store for a long time?” I ask.

“No, not long.”

“What sort of work did you do before?”

“I was a bounty hunter,” he says—so casually as though he might be suggesting he owned an inn or a restaurant. But that blue eye glints and sparkles, and that white tail fluffs up and arcs behind him almost mischievously.

Shit! A _bounty hunter_? My skin crawls just a little. I can believe it, especially now that I see that happy glint in his eye. It frightens me but thrills me too. What the _hell_ is my problem? I need to get it together.

Still—from a bounty hunter to owning a convenience store? How the hell did that happen?

The door chime rings again, and I look up, cheerfully saying, “Welcome!”

It’s two young men—one wearing blue overalls and a white tee-shirt—he’s tall with brown hair and brown eyes, and the other is rather good-looking, almost platinum hair with aqua-colored eyes. His face is simply gorgeous—like he could be a model. He’s wearing an orange tee under a dark jacket trimmed with white faux fur around the hood and slim-fit grey jeans.

“May I help you?” I ask.

“Yeah,” the brown-haired man says. “The other day, I tried one of your green curry buns. It was the best thing I’ve ever had. You don’t have any of those left, do you?”

“Oh—yes, we do! Right over here,” I skip out from behind the counter and point them out. “It’s an exclusive flavor, actually. I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s the perfect blend of sweet and spicy,” the man says, grabbing one from the display. He gives me a closer look. “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new?”

“Oh, yes. I just started yesterday. I’m Konoe,” I smile, returning to the register.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Keisuke. I’m sure you’ll see me in here again. This quiet guy is Akira,” the brown-haired guy motions to his friend.

“Nice to meet you both,” I say, bowing my head. “Can I offer you anything else? We have lots of other flavors, too. There’s an interesting omurice flavor bun, too. It’s my personal favorite.” When I say that, I see a pair of small white ears perk up from the next aisle over. Is he eavesdropping on me? 

“Omurice?” Akira says. “I might try that.” His voice is soft and gentle.

“Look toward the bottom on the left,” I say. Akira brings one to the register.

“It’s my treat,” Keisuke says.

“You don’t have to,” Akira starts to argue.

“I always drag you here, and you always come along, so yes, I do. Just let me.” 

I ring them up, smiling. They must be good friends, I think. “Thank you so much!”

“I’m sure we’ll be back tomorrow! Thanks!”

“He’s much less intimidating than the giant white cat, isn’t he?” I hear Keisuke whisper on his way out.

“Maybe you can come in without me now?” Akira asks.

“Well, he may not work _every_ shift!” The door closes behind them.

I laugh a little, but when I look up, Rai is standing right in front of the counter. He’s just appeared there, soundlessly, his expression unreadable.

“Something funny?”

“What? Oh—no—not at all.” My ears flatten. But it _is_ funny. And I can’t help myself. I turn around to check the level of the coffee pot, and I brew another pot. “It’s just—you _can’t_ be intimidating the customers or you won’t be able to make a living!”

“Are you telling me how to run my business on your second day working for me?” He sounds slightly amazed.

His voice is a lot closer than I expect—and it’s spoken awfully close to my ear. He _was_  on the other side of the counter, and now, he’s behind the register with me—less than a few inches from me. I didn’t even hear him move! Gods, how can a cat this size move so fast and so quietly?!

“N-no—I didn’t mean—”

“Because it sounds like you have quite an opinion.”

Rai seems to think he can intimidate me into shutting up, too. Just because he’s a little bigger than me. I set my jaw firmly.

“What _is_ it with you? Are you trying to intimidate _me_ , too?” I stand up straight and I do not back down. This puts me flush against Rai’s chest, and I have to tilt up my face to meet his eye. I _do_ feel intimidated, truthfully, but I try not to show it. 

“Do you _feel_ intimidated?” Rai’s voice is calm and cool.

“N-no.” It’s an obvious lie, and my quavering voice and slightly shaking tail give me away.

“Don’t you think it’s _your_ job, as my _employee_ , to _submit_ your rather strong will to mine?” Rai asks, cool and collected.

“Not if you’re obviously _wrong_ ,” I say boldly. 

“ _What_ did you say?” Rai sounds absolutely astounded. 

“Since this morning, you’ve been doing nothing but intimidating customers!” I exclaim. “That’s no way to run a successful business! The last two guys who came in are _afraid_ to come in alone because of you! Didn’t you _hear_ them?”

“Oh, really? And how is that  _your_ concern?” Rai says, his voice lowering slightly. My ear twitches slightly when the sound of a truck pulls up. “Oh, perfect timing.” 

“Of course it is! If you frighten customers, you won’t get sales. If you don’t get sales, I won’t get paid! That is _definitely_ my concern!”

“Don’t move. We are _not_ finished with this discussion.” Rai stalks to the back of the store and I hear him growling at Bardo. I think I hear him say, “Watch the front for a moment. We are having a discipline issue.”

Wait just a minute. _Discipline_ issue? What the hell is he talking about? 

“You, come with me.”

Rai grabs my arm, pulling me back toward the back of the store.

“What are you doing? Hey! Let _go_ of me!” I start to struggle.

“You know, I can do this right here, in the middle of the store if you’d rather. It would probably be _great_ for business. I don’t care either way. I’m sure Bardo would _love_ to see a little performance. I just thought you’d prefer the privacy.”

“Performance? Privacy? What are you going on about?” I growl right back. I hear Bardo clicking his tongue softly.

“Do you want to do this _here_? Or in my _office_?” Rai growls, and _his_ growl sends shivers down my spine. He is _scaring_ me, making the fur on my tail and the hair on my nape stand up. I have no idea what is going through his head, but I’m fairly certain that with the look Bardo is giving me, perhaps I would prefer to do this in private.

“Your office,” I say quietly. Did I really overstep my bounds? Shit. 

“Finally, that submissive tone of yours has returned!” Rai snaps, the cool icy tone heating up slightly. He pulls my arm harshly, forcing me toward the back of the store. I _was_ walking—and would _continue_ walking—if he’d only give me a chance! The rough treatment hurts my feelings, and tears spring to my eyes. What’s going on?

He opens the door and walks in, releasing my arm the moment we are in his office, leaning up against his desk, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

I stare down at the floor, looking at the black and blue diamond pattern in the carpet. I still have no idea what the fuck is going on. 

“Close the door behind you,” he orders. I obey silently without looking up. I notice my breath has gotten much faster than it was, but I keep my head down.

“Why don’t you get more comfortable? Get on your knees.”

On my knees? Oh, shit. I obey, and my breath hitches in a small sob. I think I see his ears twitch. 

The moment I am kneeling, I feel his hands in my hair, stroking my ears surprisingly gently. It’s such a strange juxtaposition from how roughly he was just dragging me across the store and pinching my arm, and it’s confusing. The touch feels oddly good, and my body starts to feel a little warm.

But my heart is still racing—I hear it thrumming in my ears, and I am having a hard time catching my breath. Tears threaten the corners of my eyes, about to drip down my cheeks. I feel like I should apologize, but I don’t know what for. Is he going to fire me?

“Konoe, do you _want_ this job?” There it is! I feel cool fingers against my chin, urging me to look up at his face. I comply immediately. He looks very serious, not a trace of a smile on his face.

Tears finally overflow from my eyes, and I nod, weeping silently.

“Please. I have nowhere else to go.”

“If you want to work for me, you have to understand that _I_ own this store and what _I_ say, goes.” 

“Yes, sir,” I mumble softly.

“You have been disrespectful today, and you have talked back to me on several occasions. Understand, it _isn’t_ that I don’t appreciate your opinions. I do. I desire them and appreciate them very much. I _want_ you to think independently. I’d just prefer you’d do it with _respect_.”

“I’m sorry, sir. It will not happen again.” My body is trembling.

“Oh, I’m _sure_ it won’t, kitten. But this issue at hand is how you will learn from _this_ mistake,” Rai says. His voice, while frightening, is like honey dripping into my ears, and I don’t know how to handle these mixed feelings of desire and near terror!

“I’ve already learned!” I exclaim, bowing before him, my head down low. “I will never defy you again, and—”

“Kitten, those are mere words. I need you to _show_ me. If you want to keep this job, that is.” He sounds so matter of fact.

“Please!” I beg. “I _need_ this job! I have nowhere else to go—” 

“What about the regular who asked you to call him master? You could work for him and sell your body for sex,” Rai suggests coolly. It sounds terrible. It's humiliating to hear these words from Rai's gorgeous lips, too. “You’d probably only be chained up for half your life, but at least you could keep the tips.”

“Please—Rai—I’m sorry. _Please_ —forgive me! What would you have me do?” Another small sob leaks out with that last sentence, and I stare down at my hands in my lap. I can't get my fingers to stay still.

“I want you to take responsibility for speaking disrespectfully and be willing to accept your punishment,” the silver cat says firmly.

“I will do whatever it takes to stay here,” I whisper. “Just give me another chance. I’ll do _anything_!”

“Look at how earnest you are,” Rai squats down, bringing himself to my level. “You’re crying actual tears.”

“ _Please_ —don’t send me back to Karou! I will be _killed_ ,” I whisper.

His thumbs tenderly wipe away my tears.

“First, I want to know why you can’t go home. Then, I will share my terms with you. My terms are not negotiable.”

“Thank you, sir!”

"And stop with this 'sir' business,” Rai snaps.

“Ah—I’m sorry.” How else am I supposed to show respect?

“Begin.”

In a quavering voice, I tell Rai the story of my hometown—how my mother died when I was five and I’d never met my father. I’d never loved Karou, nor had Karou ever loved me, but it was all I’d ever known. The villagers were eager to be rid of me—and the elder recently became involved with a border dispute between my neighbor, a grey cat named Sin, and me. I didn’t care much about it—as far as I was concerned, Sin could _have_ the small piece of territory in dispute. However, Sin felt I was being pretentious about it and involved the elder.

It grew into a huge issue—and now, my entire land was up for grabs. Why had _I_ been granted land in the first place when I had no family? Was I really a true heir to Karou? Perhaps the land wasn't truly mine! Neighbors on all sides wanted a piece—and in the middle of all of this fighting, I grew very ill. I had a very bad fever and flu, and the cats around me thought I was stricken because I was cursed and trying to steal land from the righteous. I was chased from my home, from my village—without any of my belongings, while still ill and vomiting. They threatened to kill me if I returned—for surely I was a cursed cat and would bring sickness to them all.

Fortunately, Tokino discovered me, lying in the woods, shaking and shivering with fever, dehydrated from vomiting, and he brought me to his home in Ransen for a few days to recover, but his father said I couldn’t stay. They simply didn’t have room or resources. He suggested I go with Tokino to Toshima, which is where I’ve been ever since. I lived on the streets for a while, and then I found this job, also thanks to my good friend’s referral.

The only thing I have left from my home is a poem written by my father, a silver ring, and a small pouch of stones—which is now mostly empty. I traded them for money—the stuff humans use for bartering. I couldn’t even bring my sword with me, so I had no way to defend myself.

I’m weeping by the end of my tale, and I can’t look up at my boss.

“You see, I can’t go home—my home has been taken from me,” I sob. “I have nothing left. I really _need_ this job. I appreciate the place to stay, a safe place to sleep—which I haven’t had in two weeks. This shop even has running water,” I say softly. “I was able to wash properly, too.”

“You didn’t look homeless when you came in yesterday,” Rai comments. 

“I’ve met a few friendly humans,” I say, “who’ve invited me inside, fascinated by my appearance. They’ve fed me, let me bathe and wash my clothes. Some have even given me new clothes. But...” I lower my face.

“They wanted something in return, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” I say, ashamed. “I didn’t realize that was how their culture worked. I fell prey to it several times—with both females and males, but I managed to escape before anything serious happened.” 

“‘Stupid cat!” Rai barks and his sharp tone makes my ears flatten and my tail droops in mortification.

“I know that,” I murmur softly, “now, anyway. But I had _nothing_! There was no one else!”

“‘Why didn’t you seek out your own kind? Why not come here first?” He tips up my face to meet his gaze.

“I have experienced very little compassion from my own kind. Only from Tokino,” I whisper. “And now, you. You fed me breakfast this morning and are giving me a place to stay.”

“No, I’m not,” Rai says. “You will be _earning_ it. _If_ you follow my rules. If you don’t, you cannot stay here.”

Fresh tears spill from my eyes.

“How can I fix this? _Please_. Tell me what to do! I didn’t mean to offend!”

“It’s not that you’ve _offended_ me, little one,” Rai says. I hear something a little different in his voice now. That cool tone has heated up with something that sounds strangely tender. “I just want to hear respect when you address me.”

“Yes, um, I’m sorry, I understand. I can do that,” I say, desperate and eager to please. “It’s your shop after all.”

I lower my gaze or try to, but he lifts my chin toward his face again.

“It certainly _is_ my shop. I’d like you to take _responsibility_ for your actions.”

“R-responsibility?” I stammer. “I-I’m not quite sure I understand...” I’m getting very nervous—this cat is incredibly intimidating and confusing. Just what does he _want_ from me?

“What do you think happens to kittens who are disrespectful to their masters?” Rai asks.

“I-I d-don’t know, sir,” I say, my voice quiet.

“Don’t you think they ought to be punished?” Rai’s voice slides into my ears—softly like he’s whispering some secret meant just for me, with great anticipation. And for me, it has the effect of ruffling my fur and making me shiver... until the meaning of his words actually hit me. 

“P-punished?” I whisper, terrified. “N-no! P-please...”

“This is _only_ , of course, if you’d like to _keep_ your job, Konoe. I won’t lay a finger on you if you don’t _want_ me to. However, I cannot have disrespectful, disobedient kittens working for me. But I will forgive your infraction if you submit willingly to the punishment I see fit.” His voice is back to its former cooler tone now, almost challenging.

“I... will submit to any punishment you deem appropriate.” My voice is so soft it almost cannot be heard, but my ears are stroked softly. I have nowhere else to go, and he knows this. I don’t really have a choice. “Please, _forgive_ me.” My heart flutters in my throat.

“Your punishment will be given in two parts,” Rai says, while I stare at the carpet. The diamonds pattern in the carpet blurs with tears, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why his voice sounds so nice. Tokino warned me not to piss him off, and I’ve gone and done it—big time. My hands are resting in my lap—I’d say they were resting quietly, but they are trembling uncontrollably. “First, I want to provide you with immediate physical feedback—which I will repeat if necessary, should this disrespectful behavior occur a second time. Second, when your shift is over at the end of the evening, you will be coming home with me.”

“What?” I cannot keep the shock out of my voice. “With you? _Why_?” A bolt of fear—or else desire—I really cannot tell which—shoots through my chest and pools in my hips heavily. Thank gods I’m kneeling right now, or he might be able to tell.

“Several reasons, but primarily so you can make it up to me,” Rai says simply. 

“Make it up _how_?” I press, remembering the close calls I got myself in not all that long ago with humans who claimed they would help me and instead tried to take advantage.

“Perhaps you should worry more about the _here_ and _now_ , Konoe,” the silver car suggests helpfully, pulling me to my feet. He sits comfortably on his desk for a moment and peers into my face. “I want you to be fully aware of why we are doing this. You understand _why_ I am punishing you, don’t you?”

“So I don’t have to return to Karou?” I ask.

To my surprise, I feel a sharp slap on my ass— _really_ hard, actually—and loud—and it makes my tail bristle and my ears flick backward toward the sound. It takes me completely by surprise and forces a small yelp from my mouth. While there is sharp, stinging pain, right after the pain, I feel a sense of heat pooling in my hips that isn’t altogether unpleasant, and my mouth starts to water. My eyes widen, my pupils dilate, and I gaze up at that pale blue eye.

“Let’s try this again,” Rai says softly. “I can do this as long as it takes for you to understand. While technically, this _will_ prevent you from having to return to Karou, that is _not_ why you are being punished.”

Is he going to _spank_ me? Seriously? My gods—I'm not sure this is a very good idea. I try to pull away.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I protest.

“Oh, don’t you?” Rai’s sexy voice murmurs. “As I said, this lies entirely in _your_ hands, Konoe. _You_ have the power here. If you’d rather _not_ submit, I understand. But I _cannot_ work with you if that’s the case.”

He tilts his head slightly, that long silver hair falling gracefully over his shoulder, and he gives me a soft, understanding smile. He knows I will _have_ to submit to this... utter humiliation!

“I am sorry,” I lower my face. “I was just... um, surprised.”

“And you will answer my question now?”

Question? Did he ask a question? I look slightly confused, and he touches my chin softly.

“Um, because I was disrespectful?” I ask.

“There’s a good kitten,” Rai answers, pleased—and his praise ruffles through my body just like a caress. Why does his voice _do_ that to me? “Now, unfortunately for you, respect is a _big_ deal to me, which is why we are here now. I want you to learn that treating me with respect is important.”

“Okay,” I say, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Climb on up, then.”

“Um, on the table?” I ask. I know exactly what he means, and the blush in my ears shows it. But I'm pretending like I don't.

“On my lap,” Rai says. “I won’t ask again. Either you  _submit_  to the punishment or you _don’t_ , Konoe.” 

Whimpering helplessly, I climb up over his lap, face down, humiliated. I can’t believe I’m _doing_ this! Is this _normal_? My heart is racing so fast in my ears I feel like I might have a heart attack, and my breathing is so hard I have to deliberately slow it down and relax. I shiver slightly, my ears twitch, my tail agitated. 

“Relax your body. I don’t want to see any hands back here.”

“Yes, sir,” And shit! I said sir again. Tears are already falling—and he’s not even started. But his hands brush over my ass gently. 

“This is an important lesson. I will be giving you 15 strokes over your clothes and 15 on the bare. You don’t need to count. Do not struggle or try to cover yourself. You are to _submit_. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, s-, er, Rai.”

“Good kitten. All right. And listen—I don’t _want_ to hurt you, little one. I just require your respect and obedience.”

“W-wait!” I exclaim, just as his hand leaves my ass.

“What is it?” His left hand is resting on my lower back, holding the base of my tail, almost massaging it, and his right comes to rest on my ass again, caressing me lightly. It makes me arch my back—like I enjoy his touch. And perhaps... perhaps I do. 

“Perhaps—if you d-don’t w-want to h-hurt m-me, I c-could c-clean y-your ap-partment, or c-cook f-for y-you, or s-something...? P-please... y-you d-don’t have t-to d-do this...”

“Oh, but I do, or you won’t learn,” Rai murmurs, leaning in close to my ear. He nips the edge of my ear with his fangs, and that sends a shiver through my body. “I’m afraid I do.”

My lower back is pressed against his lap, and his right hand leaves my ass—and smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

A volley of spanks scatter down my right cheek, across my sit spot and up my left cheek, and then return to that sensitive sit spot again—leaving me yelping after each blow. I hardly have even a moment to recover—and my ass heats up as hot as my ears. I struggle not to kick my feet and to keep my hands pressed against the side of the desk.

It takes less than a minute, however, and then the blows stop as suddenly as they started. And then, he says, “Now stand up, and lower your jeans and underwear, please.”

Even more ashamed than I was before—and the heat that has built up in my hips has left me strangely aroused—what the _hell_ is wrong with me? I just hope he won’t notice! I just can’t expose myself!

“Please!” I blurt. “Please—Rai— _Please_?”

“Konoe—haven’t you agreed to submit? There is no half-way. You should choose to obey. You're already half-way through. You can do this.” He gives me a soft, encouraging smile.

A small meowing whine escapes my lips and I half-heartedly yank down my jeans and underwear just a tiny bit and crawl back over Rai’s lap.

“Ah, this won’t do. You need to actually _expose_ your skin, little one. Try again.”

Absolutely miserable, I get back to my feet and pull my pants and underwear down to my knees. Then, I crawl back up onto Rai’s lap, a loud humiliated sob escaping my mouth. I press my lips together to prevent anything else from coming out, and tears leak out of my eyes again. I feel my ears burning. The air feels so cold against my hot skin.

“Much better,” Rai says, his hand caresses me softly—and it sends an obvious pleasurable shiver through my body— _why_? Why do I enjoy his touch? I feel the other hand pressing against my lower back so I can’t escape.

However—when the first two spanks land on my bare skin—slap, slap—such embarrassing sounds—and I even feel my ass jiggling—it _really_ burns! I actually do more than yelp in pain. Those are actual _cries_ escaping my lips. I try to dig my claws into the side of his desk, but I can’t find any grip. As the next few blows rain down—he catches the soft, unprotected skin of my thighs, and my hands fly up to protect myself, and I scream.

“ _Please_!”

“Remember what I said? You are to submit,” Rai murmurs. He easily catches my hands and firmly pins them against my lower back, right at the base of my tail. It makes me arch even more, and I stick out my ass even further, giving him even better access to my sit spot, which is then liberally covered with spanks.

I’m crying real tears when he’s finished—both when the blows hit my flesh and between, sobbing loudly in both pain and humiliation. However, I don’t struggle anymore—only lie submissively on his lap, waiting for the punishment to be finished. I want so much to rub out the pain—and I feel his hand give me a soft caress before he allows me to stand. Even _that_ feels dangerously close to pleasure. Is it just because it's so tender in comparison? Or because blood has pooled so heavily there? Or is this something else?

“Stand and face the wall,” he says firmly. “Keep your arms folded behind your head.”

A pitiful meow leaks from my mouth when I slide off his lap, and I obey. I’m still weeping—I realize—as I stand and face the wall, my chest rising and falling irregularly, and I want to wipe my tears. I can’t see what Rai is doing, but he is sitting down at his desk and doing something—paperwork, perhaps?

I stand like this for about five minutes, until my tears are finished. Then Rai stands up and walks over to me. I feel a soft caress on my ass, and I flinch—but why the _hell_ does it feel so nice? His hand feels cool and soothing, gentle and tender, and something pulls in my chest. I feel... guilt. I actually feel _guilty_.

“You’re nice and pink,” Rai murmurs. “Listen. I will repeat this lesson as often as necessary until you learn its importance—if you speak to me disrespectfully again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, um, Rai,” I stammer, miserably. I’m so embarrassed. I’m _truly_ afraid of what he might have planned for this evening.

“I’d like to keep you here longer, to think about respect, but unfortunately, we have new inventory to stock. For now, I want you to know you handled your punishment very well. Also, I am _glad_ to have you here. I think you will add a lot as to this shop. But you may _not_ disrespect me while you are here. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,” I say, fresh tears brimming in my eyes. My heart lurches again in my chest. I'm laced with... guilt! Why? 

“And you don’t need to feel bad anymore. I am satisfied.” My ears are brushed lightly and then the tips of each one are kissed in turn. 

“I’m so sorry, Rai!” I burst out suddenly. I can't help the words that spill from my mouth. It's more than not wanting to lose a place to stay. It's that I don't want to displease this elegant silver cat! But the worlds just pour out of my mouth in a stream. “Please! I didn’t mean anything by it! I'm new to this world, new to working with other cats, and it's no excuse, but _please_ , I'm so sorry! Please, please— _forgive_ me!” I turn around from the wall and throw myself into the larger cat’s arms, inhaling his scent, pressing against his chest, enjoying his strength, completely forgetting my pants are pulled down around my knees. I only want the larger cat to _hold_ me—I feel a desperate need to have him take me in his arms. 

“Little one, hush, you’re already forgiven,” he murmurs, kissing the tips of my ears again, gathering me up gently. “Shh. It’s okay. Stop these tears. Let’s get you dressed.”

He pulls up my underwear and jeans—there’s no _way_ he doesn’t notice my current state when he does—and he grins just a bit against my ear—I can feel his teeth. He takes a handkerchief, wiping my tears first, and then letting me blow my nose.

“Let me fix your apron. Come here,” he turns me around and reties the bow. “Perfect.” He tips my face up and combs his long claws through my hair for a moment. “‘Do you need a few minutes to collect yourself? Or are you all right?”

It’s been a while since I’ve cried like that—and strangely I feel much better.

“I’m all right.”

“Okay, then best get back to work,” Rai says, lowering his lips to my nose and kissing me lightly. I blink in surprise. What was _that_?

I hurry back outside, where Bardo has been watching the register. He looks at me sideways for a moment.

“Kitten, you’re practically glowing! What the hell was he doing to you back there? It sounded... interesting.”

"Oh, um, nothing." I blush furiously, getting to work restocking the inventory, avoiding his curious looks.

Then it hits me—that was only part _one_ of a two-part punishment. I’ve agreed to go home with Rai this evening—and I’m _truly_ afraid. What _exactly_ have I agreed to?

 


	25. The Prince and the Touga - Leaks x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this alternate universe, Shui is the king of Sisa, which he rules alongside his lover, Leaks. They’ve indulged Shui’s son Konoe for many years. Konoe is a beautiful and talented young Sanga, destined to be a prince—but he’s a little spoiled—and very clueless as to his destiny.
> 
> He has yet to pair with a Touga, and the concept frightens him. Shui has invited five of the surrounding kingdoms’ best Tougas to their castle for a celebration, at the end of which one will become Konoe’s life partner and Sisa’s valuable new ally. The story opens the evening before the first day—all Touga suitors are present—and Konoe is refusing to take part in the ceremonies, not wishing to give up his freedom for the sake of “some meathead he’s never even met.”
> 
> This is the first chapter. Poor little prince!

“Konoe, this pains me more than I can say,” my dad is saying.

I don’t believe him. I cannot believe him. In my entire sixteen cycles, he’s never raised a hand to me, so why does he think he needs to do so now?

“You’re of age. You’re more than talented—you’re the most promising Sanga in your class. And you’re the prince. You must set an example. You do not have a choice.”

“Father, I refuse,” I set my lip stubbornly, glancing up at my stepfather, though I’m addressing my red-haired father, who is speaking softly and gently to me with tears in his eyes. “Why are you doing this, if it pains you so? Let me off, just one more cycle! I’m just not _ready_! I don’t want some meathead telling me what to do—I mean, Dad, _you_ don’t even have a Touga—you have a magician! I’m sure you of _all_ people can understand!” 

I glance into the golden eyes of my stepfather, who is enraged. He’s angry that I will not submit to their request of being courted. It’s the tradition in my kingdom of Sisa for the prince—if he is a Sanga, like I am—to be courted by the most talented Tougas from other kingdoms when he comes of age. I am now of age. They held a lavish celebration for me—a party unlike any this country had seen in the last century. I drank and danced the night away—swept off my feet—enjoyed myself to the fullest. After that experience of freedom, the _last_ thing I want is some asshole telling me what to do in my own kingdom!

“Konoe,” Papa Leaks looks at me sternly. “You are acting as though you have a choice in the matter. But the fact is, your suitors have already arrived. They are expecting courtly behavior from you: your company, your best attitude, your best manners. You are to consider with whom you want to spend the rest of your life and with whom you are most compatible. This is not only for your own good but also for the good of the kingdom. It’s why you were born.”

I sigh and roll my eyes, and then soften my face and look to my biological father, desperation in my eyes.

“Please, Dad! I just want my freedom—the freedom to find my own way and fall in love!”

“This celebration won’t prevent you from doing so, Konoe,” Dad answers, his voice still soft and gentle, pushing a strand of hair behind his shoulder. That long red hair definitely has a mind of its own today. “Please—let's do this the easy way.” 

“Either way, it’s _going_ to happen,” Papa Leaks threatens.

“So you plan to beat me till I comply with your demands?” I spit out the words angrily.

“Shui—you’ve spoiled him,” Papa looks at Dad, disappointment apparent on his face. I hate his judgmental look—he is impossible to please, and he has Dad wrapped around his finger! I’m sure this “discipline” thing was _his_ idea. “Konoe, I don’t want to do this, either—but what does it say about our kingdom if the prince won’t obey his own fathers' commands?" 

“Konoe, please,” Dad begs, “there are only five of them. They are here to woo you—all five are competing for your love and affection for the sake of their kingdoms. Your beauty is well known throughout the land, as is your talent as a Sanga—and if they could bring home an alliance, they would be delighted. You have nothing to lose!”

I look away. I _do_ have something to lose—a _big_ thing—my virginity—and from what I’ve heard from my fellow Sangas, Tougas are rough and entitled, and _I_ am a prince. I will _not_ be handled that way! _I will not!_

“I refuse!” I yell, digging my heels in.

Both my parents sigh, exchanging sorrowful glances. 

“Shui, you should leave now. I’m sorry it's come to this, but I’ll give our son the loving attitude adjustment he needs,” Papa Leaks growls.

Like hell, I think, trying to scurry from the room, but something trips me. I may be beautiful—the people cheer for me in the streets, calling me the most beautiful creature in the world. It's said my beauty rivals any female. I have a nice face, a petite shapely form—especially my hips and butt, which I've learned to sway deliberately when I walk—a lovely plush coat of pure white fur, the tips dipped in golden caramel on my ears and tail, and unruly golden blonde hair that I’ve grown out past my shoulders. I always wear a crown to accent my good looks—gold seems to accent my beautiful honey-colored eyes the best, I think. However, as beautiful and as talented as I am, I am a _little_ bit of a klutz. 

However, that _isn’t_ why I trip today. I’m actually tripped because Papa Leaks has restrained me with magic. Glowing ropes entangle my ankles and slowly drag me across the floor back toward where he is waiting.

“No!” I cry out. “Please don’t do this!” Yes, I’m a little dramatic since my father Shui is still in the room, and I know I can usually talk or cry my way out of anything. I haven't given up yet! 

Dad walks over to me, still struggling my glowing bonds. 

“Honey, I’m sorry it’s come to this. I feel responsible. You won’t submit today because I wasn’t strict enough when you were younger. But you _must_ do this. Your prospective partners are expecting you tomorrow, so there is no way to avoid them. As soon as you agree to greet them and meet with your first suitor, the beating will cease. I assure you, they are kind and nice cats, all of them. There is really no need for you to fuss like this! _You_ have all the control here, my child.” He strokes my ears and hair while he speaks calmly, tears in his eyes.

“Dad—no—I can’t— _please_ —don’t do this—he will _hurt_ me—damage me—Dad!—Don't leave me!” I scream at his retreating figure, his layered capes of green, gold and orange leaving the room. “Dad!" 

My body is lifted and bent over the arm of a plush chair. My arms are restrained in front of my body, my toes barely touching the floor, and my butt is on display. Papa Leaks is really serious about this! He doesn’t speak for a few minutes, simply watching me struggle, pointlessly, waiting for me to calm down. I cannot move much, but that doesn't prevent me from trying. Perhaps he is waiting for me to change my mind and submit.

“Have you regained your self-control, little one?” Papa asks, his voice gentle. “I don’t want to do this, but I don’t have any other choice.”

“Just send them away! Tell them I’m not ready to be courted!” I yell.

“Konoe, you know from your lessons that Sisa needs an ally right now. And these suitors have the resources we need for our people and our land. _Stop_ thinking about your own needs and think like the prince you are! Setsura is a wealthy land. Ransen is a land of merchants. Kira is a land of warriors. Karou is filled with natural resources we could use for food and fuel. The Meigi are rich in ancient sorcery and magic. An alliance with _any_ of those countries would benefit us. You need to grow up—stop acting like an entitled selfish brat and play your part as the royal prince of Sisa!” 

“I _refuse_! I don’t _want_ to—I don’t want some asshole I’ve never met pushing me around, putting his hands on me and telling me what to do! And you—you put the idea of beating me into submission into Dad’s head, didn’t you? Well, I’ve got news for you! It’s _not_ going to work! _None_ of it is going to work!” Since I’m yelling into the cushion of the chair, my voice is muffled and my throat is starting to get a little sore. I’m _pissed_! And I'm exhausting myself. 

“Really? Konoe, you _are_ a beautiful young kitten and a talented Sanga. But you must learn respect and humility. And you _will_ learn to submit to your parents today.” His voice is low and threatening.

To my utter shame, my pants are unbuttoned and pulled down to my knees, along with my underwear, in a single swift motion, exposing the entire lower half of my body. I don’t feel hands on me, so it must have been magic.

“Ah! What are you doing?” A soft protest comes out of my mouth, my cheeks burning in shame—even my ears are hot. This is _humiliating_! I can't stand this! I'm the  _prince_ , for gods' sake! "You can't  _do_ this to me!"

“Konoe, my child, if you will agree to meet with your suitors tomorrow, we won't _have_ to do anything to you. This all in your hands.” Papa's voice actually does sound sad, I have to admit. If he's so sad, he can just stop this, can't he?!

“No way!” I shout, getting my voice back and trying to kick my legs. The only thing my struggle does is expose even more of my bare skin. And it also rubs my groin against the chair lewdly, which makes me feel a little funny, so I stop right away.

“I’m sorry, my son. This hurts me much more than it does you. All you have to do is let me know when you are ready to submit to the king’s wishes, and the whipping will stop.”

Wait—did he say _whipping_? Gods—wait! Fear courses through me when I feel a soft, tender touch to my ears—his hand, I think—and then I hear a loud snap. 

As it turns out, the snap is the sound of a belt, whipping through the air and making contact with my bare, unprotected, delicate skin. My ears twitch backward at the sound first—before I feel it—the sound is terrifying in itself, sending a shock of fear through my body. 

But then pain registers. And oh, my gods—does it _hurt_! It’s a burning, stinging pain—not only in the precise area where the belt made contact but quickly spreading to surrounding areas.

Tears immediately spring to my eyes, and I let out a howl. My body jolts in surprise and shock and then shivers from the pain spread around my hips. But my ears have already registered the second swish and snap of the belt—and it hits me again—slightly lower this time —the fullest part of my ass—and my skin jiggles upon contact.

Another howl of pain rips from my mouth, and the tears spill over instantly. I’m unable to catch my breath. I try to get away, but I’m firmly restrained. 

“Submit, child,” Papa says softly. “You only need to spend a single day and night with each suitor—and who knows, maybe one will end up your loving life partner. You may even fall in love.”

Swish—snap—and another scream tears from my mouth. 

“No!” I yell over my tears, but truthfully, I’m _ready_ to submit. My body can’t take this abuse. Have my fathers really agreed to this whipping as an acceptable method to punish me into submission? This is simply cruelty! I’ve _never_ been treated this way—why would they resort to physical punishment this late in my life? Is it really _so_ important that I obey them in this?

My tail fluffs out and my claws draw, grabbing the furniture with everything I have, trying to withstand the pain from the fourth and fifth blows—but I am openly crying now.

“Submit, stubborn child!” Papa is sounding a little desperate, as he continues the whipping. “How will you explain these welts to your suitors? You don’t want them to get any ideas of how _they_ might treat you, do you?”

My ears twitch a little at that though—as the seventh and eighth whips come down brutally and I scream and cry and wail. Wait—my _suitors_ might whip me? No—please! _No_!

“I submit!” I cry out, just as the tenth blow smacks right against my sit spot, sending odd shivers through my body in addition to a vicious, searing pain. All the blood pooling in my waist has caused another embarrassing change to my body below my waist—and I find myself half hard from this brutal whipping. I’m so ashamed I could just  _die_.

I burst into tears, but Papa walks over to me immediately. He leaves me just as I am—exposed, naked, vulnerable, allowing me a few moments to collect myself while I weep loud and long.

“So you finally submit. Tell me what you will do tomorrow, then. How will you behave, starting with when you wake?” I feel his hand gently stroking my ears.

I take a few very shaky deep breaths before I begin, my voice quivering, tears still flowing from my eyes.

“I will get up when you and father tell me and meet with the suitors whenever you like.” 

“At breakfast,” Papa answers, gently stroking my ears. 

“Then at breakfast. I will be polite, show my most courtly manners, and be the prince I’ve been raised to be.” 

“A _better_ prince than you’ve been raised to be,” corrects Papa softly.

Lowering my ears humbly, I change my wording, “I will be a _better_ prince. I will spend time with the first suitor and I will have an open mind.”

“Konoe, _that_ is what I want to hear. If you do not behave in a way that makes our kingdom look good, we will _repeat_ tonight’s lesson, as much as it pains us both. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I say miserably. My ass is stinging so much—I just want to rub out the pain.

“Good. Now let me treat these welts. You will skip the banquet tonight because of your rebelliousness. Go to your room for the rest of the evening to consider the future—yours and that of the kingdom.”

“But Papa—it’s my last night of freedom!” I whine. 

A light stinging smack radiates on my swollen skin and I yelp loudly. It _hurts_ —even that _light_ smack with his hand hurts like hell!

“You will _obey_ me without complaint. I want you to _obey_ what I say, and I want you to stop wheedling your father when things don’t go your way. You sound like a brat—and entitled bratty kitten whose had everything he’s ever wanted, handed to him on a silver platter! It’s time to take responsibility for your own behavior and grow up!”

Papa leaves me for a moment, then returns, and I hear him opening a jar. A cool cream touches my ass—and I sigh and shiver with relief. The ointment soothes my welted skin immediately. He doesn't rub it in, though, only applies it topically to the surface and lets it sit on top of the welts.

"I'm sorry it came to this, my dear son," he murmurs softly. "You are our precious child, and we only want what is best for you. You need to learn obedience and humility, or our kingdom will not survive."

Finally, he removes my restraints.

Before he excuses me, he says, “Konoe, is there anything you’d like to tell me before you retire?”

I am relieved to be free from those restraints. The fabric of my underwear burns against the welts on my tender skin, and I wince when I pull them up, trying to be a little modest. I am never nude before any other person in this kingdom, not even my staff. It is the rule here. 

“Um, I’m very sorry for my rebellious behavior earlier?” My voice is still quivering with tears.

“And?”

“Thank you for taking the time to show me the correct way to lead our kingdom?”

“And?”

“I will do my best to make both you and Dad proud tomorrow?” 

“That is fine. Konoe. I honestly believe you have a good, pure heart, which will serve our kingdom well in the future. Use your skill wisely, and you will find a Touga who will complement your gifts, protect you and our kingdom, and become an invaluable asset.”

I nod and then wait for him to excuse me. He takes a deep breath.

“You may be excused.” 

I scurry out the door. When I push it open—oh, my gods—there are half a dozen servants standing around in the hallway—waiting at the door! They’ve been listening! I am devastated and embarrassed.

Feeling my fur bristle and my face blush, I can hear them murmuring as I hurry past them to my private quarters.

“Can you _believe_ that? His first physical punishment at _this_ age!”

“It’s no wonder he’s turned out so entitled and bratty!”

“He’s so sweet to look at, but wow—he’s got some bite!” 

“What I wouldn’t give to actually see that shapely ass of his jiggle under the smack of a belt! I wonder if he will make a public spectacle of himself tomorrow? My gods! We could sell tickets!”

Filled with shame, blushing a bright red all the way to the tips of my ears—and my ass burning in a matching shade, I’m sure—I rush to my room in a run. I pull open the door and slam it behind me, collapsing face down on my bed.

My clothes are hurting me—I need to remove them—but I’m exhausted—and I burst into tears. I’m not just crying. I’m sobbing, loud, wailing tears that wrack my entire body. I feel broken, trapped—and I hate my life. I hate my parents—I hate being a Sanga—I hate being a prince. I will have to live the rest of my life under the thumb of someone else—someone larger than me, stronger than me. That person will be able to subjugate me whenever and however he wishes. It's not fair! 

I know I’m nice to look at. I get lots of comments and remarks and have also been the subject of unwanted touching, despite my status as royalty—some cats will still touch me if they don’t know who I am.

I throw my crown on the floor in a fit of rage—but I’m not really mad. No—I’m _hopeless_. I don’t _want_ to be surrounded by cats fawning over me, wanting to touch me. And this week, I will be expected to put out—both in my song and with my body—as a trial run, to see if we are compatible. With _five_ different suitors. I want to throw up!

I’m dreading it. 

I’d rather have another whipping than be subjected to that! It makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it! 

When Dad has talked to me about it, he says it _can_ hurt if your partner is inexperienced or if you are not well-prepared, but it feels good if you are prepared and your partner pays attention to your needs. He said not to worry since these Tougas want an alliance with me, so they will work hard to please me. But I haven't heard any details about how it's supposed to work!

I don’t believe him. I don’t trust _any_ of them. 

But now—after tonight—I realize I don’t have a choice. I may not even _get_ to choose. My parents may choose for me! And I might get stuck with some sadistic asshole who likes to whip me for the rest of my life.

My tears won’t stop flowing, but eventually, I can’t take the pain anymore, so I slowly stand up. I slip off my clothes, leaving them carelessly on the floor. I have servants who will clean up after me later, so I don't give a shit. I pull on a pair of silver silk pajamas—just the long top tonight, leaving my bottom barely covered, and I open the sliding door and sneak out to the garden outside for some fresh air. My room is lit with guiding leaves instead of fire because I am afraid of fire. Right now, the room has a soft green glow, but outside, the moon is shining silver, making the garden appear a gorgeous blue in contrast to my room.

As I look out past my private area, I see someone I don’t recognize walking slowly around the pond. He’s tall— _very_ tall and slender, but very nicely built—and he isn’t facing me. He has pretty long silver hair cascading down his back, nearly to his waist. I see him push his hair over his shoulder, and even from this far away, I can see the muscle definition in his arms. He must be one of the guest Tougas. He has a nice ass, great legs—and all that beautiful shimmering hair.

I think he’s skipping rocks into the pond. Hmm. I wonder if _he_ doesn’t want to be here, either. What if _none_ of these guys want me—and they are _all_ here because their families require them to be here? What would connecting with someone like that be like? They wouldn’t care about pleasing me—and they’d treat me roughly, wouldn’t they? My gods, look at the size of that guy! Even as pretty as he is, my heart sinks into my stomach and I feel sick again.

I don’t know what to do, so I head back to bed after pouring a drink of water from the carafe at the side of my bed. I’m so ashamed. The entire castle will be gossiping about my whipping by morning. I just hope none of the Tougas hear about it. That would be _devastating_ —as well as dangerous. Who knows what they will do to me when we are alone? 

I curl up on my belly, keeping my lower half open to the free air. It takes a long time, but I do eventually drift off to sleep. I just cannot _believe_ my parents actually beat me into submission, and they threatened to do it again if I don’t behave myself tomorrow. I just hope they don’t do it publicly.


	26. The Prince and the Touga - Shiki x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe meets Shiki (the second Touga--from Meigi) with his heart in the right place but finds today’s suitor less than pleased that Konoe has missed breakfast and wasn’t more eager for spending time with him.
> 
> Shiki decides to teach our spoiled Sanga a little lesson—dragging him back to his chamber to do so—which Konoe is unhappy and mortified to learn. Konoe’s day goes from bad to much worse. Thanks to Empressing for the “unadorned” idea, which I took a little differently.
> 
> Trigger warning: non-con touching and non-con spanking

My confidence dissipates the moment I appear in the changing area of the arena when today’s suitor grabs me by the arm and throws me up against the wall. He pins me there, his rough breath softly moving the wisps of my artfully styled bangs, his strange red eyes peering down at me.

“Where were you at breakfast, my spoiled little prince? I was expecting your company and you left me hanging!” His tone is soft but awfully threatening, and it’s making me break out in a sweat.

“I am sorry, Shiki—” I try to explain, but he grabs my chin and cranes it upward so I have to meet his eyes, which I am trying to avoid.

“You will call me master today—for that is what a Touga is to a Sanga. Your purpose is to strengthen me, serve me, and you will be grateful for the opportunity,” he growls.

Really? How in a million cycles does this guy think I would _ever_ choose him out of all the others, who are anxious to partner with me? To my horror, a small sound of disgust—more like a clicking of my tongue—escapes from my lips. It was foolhardy, I admit, but I meant it. I couldn't help it!

The red eyes narrow above me.

“Did you just click your tongue at me?” 

“I did,” I admit, bravely. He cannot _hurt_ me, I’m pretty sure—not in my own kingdom. “Why do you think I would _ever_ choose a Touga who makes me call him master? That’s ridiculous!” 

“Today, little one, you are about to learn a very difficult lesson, but I am more than happy to teach you. _Delighted_ , in fact.” He steps a little closer to me, pressing his body up against mine, which makes me incredibly uncomfortable. “You are about to learn what it really means to be a Sanga.”

With that, he yanks my arm and pulls me out of the changing area, and I have to struggle to keep up with his long stride. 

“Wait!” I cry out. “We have the battles to perform!” 

“I have to _prepare_ you first,” Shiki mutters, and I strain my ears to hear his quiet voice. “I simply cannot work with you the way you are right now.”

“What way? What are you talking about?” I’m getting really nervous, and my body is trembling.

We enter one of the guest rooms—I’m assuming it’s his—and he locks the door behind us. 

“Wait,” I say, my voice quavering with fear. “This part—isn’t it supposed to come after dinner? I mean, we don’t even have my parents‘ blessing yet.”

“Listen, little Sanga, and listen well. I know you are used to getting everything you want when you want it. But that won’t be happening today. I will not partner with a spoiled brat. I don’t trust anyone who won’t do what I command when I command it—without delay.”

Tears fill my eyes when I hear these frightening words.

“Sh-er, master, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to displease you—”

“I don’t care about your intentions. I demand _obedience_. Now strip.”

My eyes widen. It’s nearly midday, and bright in here. I could never possibly do that in front of anyone!

I simply look at his face, and his red eyes bore into me. 

“I took such good care to dress in colors I thought you would prefer!” My voice is whining already.

“Your job today is to _please_ me. If you disobey my first command, I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget. I promise you this. You will never disobey me again.” 

That threat sounds very real. And so I take off my jerkin, looking down at the floor as I unbutton each one, looking for a place to put it. I end up folding it up and placing it on the floor. I slip out of my breeches the same way and pull off my stockings.

I glance up at Shiki, whose arms are folded and who is standing in a relaxed pose, watching me carefully.

“Go on. I won’t tell you again.” 

I unbutton the ivory silk blouse and slip it off my shoulders. The silk is very fine—and it feels so good touching me—perhaps it reminds me a little bit of Rai’s silky hair in both texture and color. Then, like Rai did this morning, I pull my tail in front of my body and slip out of my underwear, too. 

“Let your hair down, too,” Shiki says, still only watching me. 

My fingers trembling, I undo the braid in my hair, letting it fall down across my shoulders and back.

“I’ve brought some items to help your training,” Shiki says. 

I don’t reply or look up, but I feel a sharp slap on my behind. It’s humiliating—the sound, the way it jolts my body forward, and the small yelp that comes out of my mouth in response to the surprise and pain. Tears are really gathering in my eyes now.

“When I address you, you must acknowledge me. Say, ‘yes, master,’” Shiki says.

“Yes, master,” I reply instantly, still not raising my face.

“You are to be grateful for this training.”

“Yes, master. Thank you, master.” I have no idea of what is about to happen, but I just thanked him for it in advance.

“That’s a good boy.” He runs his fingers through my hair and ears. His touch revolts me, but I try not to flinch. “So lush and beautiful. Now then, my gifts.”

I feel something wrap around my neck and make a clicking sound. My fingers fly up, and something like a collar is wrapped around my neck! I’m shocked. I’m _not_ a pet—What _is_ this? How humiliating!

While my hands are touching the collar—it feels heavy but covered in leather on the outside—Shiki wraps cuffs around each of my wrists in turn. I do not fight him—I submit obediently, but the tears in my eyes want to fall. 

“One more pair,” Shiki mumbles—almost to himself—and he leans down to attach black leather cuffs to my ankles as well. I notice there are hooks and rings on the outside of the cuffs—even the one on my neck has those things. As I’m thinking those thoughts, he attaches a chain to my collar like a leash. This is horrible!

“Please,” I start, tears slipping down my cheeks, “Please, master, I don’t know how this happened or exactly what I did to make you treat me this way, but I only wish to please you. Please, give me a fair chance to prove myself to you, master!”

“You will be doing just that now, have no fear,” Shiki replies. “You just need to learn the rules up front, that’s all.”

“Rules? What rules??” I shudder as Shiki pushes me down to my knees.

“Lower your gaze, little Sanga,” he orders, and he strokes my ears. “Your fur is even softer than it looks.” He spreads my hair out over my shoulders, and I rest my tail in my lap for modesty—I _hate_ being nude in front of others—and my heart is racing furiously, my pulse pounding in my ears. My body is shaking uncontrollably, but on my knees, I feel slightly more steady. “Hands in your lap, good kitten. When you arrive in my chambers—either later tonight, or at any other time—this is how I want you. You are to appear unadorned before your Touga. This is what pleases me. It signals to me that you come ready to serve.”

But... I’m not really unadorned when I’m wearing this collar and these cuffs, am I? Somehow, they make me feel even more naked than I am already! I’m blushing hotly, keeping my gaze focused in front of me on the floor, concentrating on it as though something interesting is there. I’m still terribly frightened.

“Have I displeased you, master?” I ask quietly. “How can I make it right?”

“First, kitten—you must learn that you, as the Sanga, are to  _support_ to the Touga. As lovely as your voice is, I find it distracting. I don’t want you to speak unless you as spoken to. And when you are spoken to, you will acknowledge what you’ve heard me with the respect I am due. Respect is not valued highly in Sisa, I fear, and I will be doing you a favor in teaching it to you.”

“Y-yes, master,” I reply, my voice stammering slightly. “Th-thank you, sir.” 

He strokes my ears again, still standing behind me, which makes me terribly nervous. “As you may recall, I brought you here because you disappointed me with your tardiness and your lack of attention to me at this morning’s breakfast. I don’t care for your excuses. However—I’m rather surprised to see the state of your body. I was almost sure no one at this castle had ever raised a hand to you.”

“Master?” I ask—I’m not sure how to acknowledge what he just said—but I realize as his hand travels down my bare backside, tracing the welts slightly.

“Show them to me,” he says, in a quiet commanding voice. 

“Master?” I ask fearfully. I think I know what he wants, but I do not want to comply.

“Your welts. I want to see them.” 

“Please, master,” I start, and before I can beg anything else, I receive another smack to my ass—it isn’t terribly hard, but it hurts enough and is loud and humiliating. Shameful tears run down my face. I’ve _never_ been treated this way. 

“Little Sanga—you forget—this is a test for me, as well. Your job is to _submit_ to me and _obey_ me. You are not doing very well. I can force your obedience if you like,” he whispers threateningly in my ear—and he follows it with a lick. I hear him growl right afterward. “What’s this—your scent—it’s all wrong! What did that silver cat do to you? Did you see him _before_ you saw me? On the day you are meant to serve _me_?” 

Suddenly, my collar is yanked hard—and I am choked. I’m yanked roughly to my feet, and I try to scream. I lose my ability to breathe for a moment, and I’m pulled directly up to face Shiki’s usually attractive and pale face, which is currently drawn up in an angry sneer. 

“Tell me the truth—were you late because you spent time with the silver cat from Setsura? Did he keep you longer than he should have? You are _covered_ in his scent! Did you even bathe before seeing me?”

Keeping the collar tight, my feet nearly lifted off the floor and me gasping for air and clutching at the collar, Shiki slowly sniffs my neck. He should smell _me_ —not Rai—since I did bathe!

“I did bathe! I did prepare myself for you! Master!” My words come out in less than a whisper, since I’m barely getting enough air to breathe. I’m truly afraid he will kill me. “Please—release me! Master, _please_!”

“Tell me—what happened?” He finally sets me on the floor, and I take in a giant gasp of air—it makes me feel almost high, and my vision returns. Words spill from my mouth, like a river.

“When I came out of my room, the silver cat was there—and he kissed me and stroked my fur—and thanked me for last evening. That was all. I didn’t feel like I could be rude and push him away! I’m so sorry if that displeased you, master. I did not know your expectations, sir.” My voice is filled with tears—and more tears of regret for telling of my secret meeting with Rai, who may have broken a rule to touch me out of turn. 

“I see,” Shiki says. “Perhaps he was simply misinformed, but I will have words with him after I’m finished with you. For now, I will teach you a simple lesson about who is your boss. Come.” 

I am dragged by my collar to a chair, where he rather violently pulls me over his lap, face down. I find myself staring at the plush carpet of a guest room I’ve never been—in my own castle—and my cuffed wrists are in front of me. I realize now exactly what kind of lesson he has in mind, as soon as I feel one hand stroking my behind, and one pressing down on my lower back, making me arch slightly. My tail restlessly waves back and forth.

“Master, please—I didn’t know the rules,” I beg. “There is no need for this.” 

“But there is,” he murmurs, continuing to stroke me. He slips his hand gently between my cheeks, almost tenderly, and I hear a small gasp. “What’s this? There is no redness here—you aren’t even swollen?”

He grabs my chin suddenly with the hand that was pressing on my back, keeping his other hand awfully close to my entrance. It’s a terribly intimate touch. I shiver with disgust and close my eyes when he cranes my neck back to make me face him, my cheeks red and hot, my ears burning.

“Look at me!” He barks. 

My eyes fly open at his command, and I quiver. Several tears sneak out of my eyes, and I fail to suppress a sob.

“Didn’t the Setsuran take you last night?”

“We did... other things,” I say quietly. “He did not use me there.” Another sob I am trying to hold back slips out, and I can’t help letting loose a tiny whimper.

“You are untouched!” He sounds gleeful. “Like an unopened blossom—waiting for me! You saved yourself for me, my sweet little Sanga!”

He releases my chin, and I whimper softly. Perhaps in his happiness, he won’t punish me now? 

“Hmm,” he murmurs softly, rubbing my rear lightly, slipping in between my cheeks softly. “Perhaps I will reward your thoughtfulness with a lighter punishment. But you still need to learn what happens when you disobey and disrespect me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, master,” I whimper softly. ”Please, be gentle with me, master.”

“Sweet little tears already—as I would expect from a spoiled kitten as yourself,” Shiki says. “But soon, you will actually have a _reason_ to weep, my dear. Keep in mind, I will be going easy on you, because you saved yourself for me.”

“Thank you, master,” I choke out, wondering how the hell I got myself in a humiliating situation like this.

“Now, there are rules. You may want to reach up and protect yourself. That is _not_ allowed. I suggest you hold on to the chair. If I see your hands back here, that will warrant a more severe punishment, do you understand?” 

“Yes, master,” my voice is filled with fear. How bad is this going to be? I mean—it can’t be as bad the belt spanking, can it? 

One hand presses down on my lower back, keeping me firmly in place, and the other hand begins a volley of spanks—one right after the other—coming fast and hard—much faster than I can recover from. I immediately grab onto the legs of the chair, because he is right—I _do_ want to protect my ass from those blows! He alternates between each cheek, the center, and my sit spot—which hurts the most—drawing the loudest cries from my mouth—and he keeps going and going. My ass feels like it is on fire! I can’t believe he is doing this with his hand! 

After several spanks directly to my sit spot, I can’t take anymore, and I cannot control my hands.

“Please, master— _Please_!” I beg, and my hands fly up to protect myself. Of course, he catches them with the one holding my back.

“Ah, you’ve broken the rule, my spoiled little kitten,” he murmurs. For a moment, he rubs my ass—and it feels _so_ good—so soothing, my tears stop for a moment and a sigh comes from my mouth. “I’m afraid you’ve earned a penalty.” I think I hear something like laughter in his voice, almost like he was waiting for this. 

The next blow to come down is much different. It’s not a hand—and it’s much louder and harder—almost like a paddle, but not as big. What _is_ that? It hurts even more than his hand, leaving my ass bouncing and jiggling and searing in pain. I think it will leave bruises where his hand simply left me red. The blows make my legs quiver and shake, and my feet try to gain purchase on the ground to protect myself, but of course, my efforts are futile.

My cries turn to screams—and I would desperately try to protect myself with my hands, but he has them pinned behind my back, right at the base of my tail, which arches my bottom out even more, giving him the perfect aim for my thighs and sit spot. My thighs were previously spared, but he uses his implement on them—several strokes up my left thigh and then several up my right, alternating my sit spot in between.

“You know, you have the _perfect_ ass for spanking, little Sanga,” he murmurs—and I’m horrified to find that he is erect and pressing against my belly and side. “It bounces and jiggles in all the right places—it’s just amazing!”

I’m screaming and my face is covered with tears—even between strokes, I’m earnestly crying. But as soon as I can, I try to submit. Soon, I am not struggling anymore. I don’t know when I stopped, but it’s as if I have given up—I know he is going to do what he wishes, and he _wants_ me to submit. So I let my body relax—as much as I can. And it seems to please him.

“There we go—this is much better. A much better look—I require an _obedient_ Sanga. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, m-master,” I cry, between my tears.

Finally, he stops. He puts the implement down on the floor—I can see it now—it was a _hairbrush_ —holy shit—who knew a hairbrush could cause such pain? I am still weeping. My ass hurts so much—it’s on fire. His hands run all over my bottom and thighs—as though he is admiring his work, rather than soothing me.

“Move to the bed. Lie face down.” His words are short and clipped, and I obey immediately. I’m very afraid—is he going to fuck me now? After this? This isn’t how it’s supposed to go! My entire body is quivering, scared out of my wits.

He comes over in a moment, and I hear him open a jar. He applies a cream to my ass and my thighs—it burns at first but then cools and soothes my skin directly after. He doesn’t rub it in, however, just lets it absorb on its own. 

“I wish I could say I _didn’t_ enjoy punishing you, spoiled little Sanga. But that would be a lie. However, I hope you learned a valuable lesson from that discipline session. What did you learn?” 

“To respect and value my master’s time, and to obey his every command, master,” I reply. “I am very sorry I disappointed you. I want to please you, master.” My words are actually close to true, since I do not want to go through the humiliation and pain of another punishment ever again.

“Very good. Next time we come into this room, you will present yourself to me unadorned, right?”

“Yes, master,” I say, nervously. 

“Wonderful. Now, let’s get you dressed again.”

He helps me dress, careful not to get the salve on my clothing—almost like he has practice doing this, weirdly, I think. Perhaps the Tougas in Meigi are trained to spank their Sangas like this, but I dislike this type of relationship. However—for one day—I can do this. I have to do this. I just have to avoid Rai for both our sakes. It pains me.

I also worry about the collar and cuffs. They show through my clothes, so everyone in the palace can see them. It’s humiliating. I consider asking Shiki to remove them, but he fluffs out my hair and plaits it off to the side, so it accents the dark leather collar against my golden hair, the pale skin of my neck, and the ivory blouse. My guess is he wants it showing. Instead, I rephrase the question.

“Master, does my appearance please you?” 

“Kitten, the only thing that would please me more is if I could show off that glowing, nearly blistered behind of yours when we get out to the arena.”

I blush at his words and cast my gaze down. I’m mortified. How can I face the other Tougas like this—and then suddenly, my body is jerked forward. I had forgotten—there is a _leash_ attached to the collar at my neck. 

“You will follow me, like the obedient Sanga you are. Do you understand?” Shiki asks, his voice low.

“Yes, master.” Fresh tears appear in my eyes. 

“Perfect. You are perfect.” He is watching me walk—limping slightly, because of the pain in my buttocks and legs, my cheeks and ears are still pink. “Do your best for me in the arena. I saw the power you have yesterday, and I cannot wait to experience it myself. I use magic when I fight—and I’m sure you will be thrilled with my abilities.”

“Yes, master,” I say, almost mechanically, keeping my ears flat. I’m miserable. We haven’t even begun the arena fighting yet—but what if I can’t sing for Shiki? He was so cruel to me! I have _no_ desire to protect him—in fact, I’d _love_ to see him devoured by monsters, even if it meant I might be hurt as well. I’m angry, humiliated, disgusted, and more than anything, afraid. I didn’t know fear before today.

What if I can’t sing?

I’m shivering with fear as Shiki pulls me out of his chambers back toward the arena.


	27. The Prince and the Touga - Shiki x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Shiki and Konoe - quite long and very brutal.
> 
> This describes the evening our little prince Konoe spends with Shiki--all written from his point of view. I'd like to just point out here that I feel just a little sadistic for writing this, but please don't hate me for doing this. I don't hate Konoe. I just like writing about this stuff, especially after that sweet consensual non-con. I don't even want to apologize, really. Just skip it if it's not your kink.
> 
> Trigger warnings: non-con spanking(s), severe and violent punishment, intimidation, forced orgasm, forced oral sex, and other trauma.

Unable to move from my position, lying down in the bed—and covered with the sheet—I can’t see who it is when the door opens. My body feels strangely relaxed, however, though my pulse is racing in my ears and my mind is filling with anxiety. But the potion Papa had me drink has really settled my nerves, and I no longer fear I may vomit. 

I hear heeled boots approaching the side of my bed and coming to rest.

“What did I _tell_ you about appearing before me _unadorned_ the next time you came to me?” Shiki’s voice sinks into my ears like slime—so very unlike the honeyed sensation I felt when Rai spoke to me. Fear shivers through my body and across the surface of my skin. I widen my eyes, hoping they will quickly adjust to the low light in the room. Is it evening already? I see several candles burning in the sconces, and it appears the curtains are drawn.

“I-I was g-given a potion,” I stammer, my voice still hoarse and painful.

“Yes, I saw your father brought one for your throat,” Shiki says, stroking my bruised neck tenderly. “I didn’t want to _have_ to injure you, little Sanga, but after watching you sing for the silver cat, I realized this was the route I would have to take.”

“I w-would h-have s-sung f-for you, m-master,” I whisper. “The m-melody was j-just b-beneath m-my s-skin—” and my sentence is abruptly cut off along with my breath. Shiki has grabbed my collar again—and it hurts even more this time. I cast my gaze at him, pleadingly, realizing my mistake too late. I should have _known_ not to speak. _Don't speak unless spoken to._  He releases my collar shortly, probably unwilling to do me too much more harm—and also pleased I have not resisted him.

Papa was right—about the potion and not resisting. How did he know?

“What did I tell you? First, you disobey my order about coming to me unadorned. Second, you speak when you have not been asked a direct question. Are you itching so much for a punishment, my spoiled little Sanga?” His voice is excited and heated, not angry, however, adding to my sense of dread.

“No, master,” I drop my eyes miserably, barely able to get out the words. Each sound feels like a shard of glass in my throat. 

With a single swift movement, Shiki pulls the light sheet from my body, leaving me frightfully exposed—naked except for the collar and cuffs on my wrists and ankles. Although—seeing me this way makes his eyes darken suddenly, and his facial expression actually changes for a split second. 

“What’s this? Have you been given some drug? Something to make you more biddable—to make the evening less painful for you? Even now, your parents spoil you! And here you are—in your full beauty, as I requested. But why didn’t you appear like this when I first came in? Why did you cover yourself?” 

“Master, I required assistance from my parents to undress. They didn’t want to leave me so exposed, sir.” My face is blushing, as he examines my body from my ears to my toes and every bit in between—never have I felt so laid bare—lying on my back before him, a piece of meat on display. I close my eyes when I feel his claws against the side of my neck.

“ _Look_ at me, little prince. Open your eyes and meet my gaze,” the words are growled low in my ear.

“Please, master,” I beg, but I obey, tentatively opening my eyes, trying to meet that intense red glare. His eyes are surprisingly dark, pupils blown wide. 

“I’m surprised you’ve even made an attempt to submit to my request,” he purrs. “You seem so full of yourself and strong-willed.”

“Yes, master,” I say, tears spilling from my eyes. His hands flatten against my body—against the bare skin of my chest, flicking my nipples with his claws and making them rise to an upright position. I try not to flinch, but it’s easy for me not to move, simply because I can’t. His hands travel along my abdomen down to my flat belly, where he combs his extended claws through the soft white fur just below my navel.

“White fur—so innocent and pure—as suits you,” he whispers. But his gentle touch turns to a sharp tug as he grabs that fur in his fingers and gives it a yank. I cry out, additionally tears spilling from my eyes, but I do not move, and I keep my eyes trained on his face. My body is trembling in fear. 

“I only wish to please you, master,” I beg softly, through my tears.

“I have no doubt you shall please me by the end of the night. I had plans to fight my way to the top—bribe my way to the top—and leave in no way dissatisfied—regardless of the outcome. I’ve always desired a top-tier _virginal_ Sanga, little one. In Meigi, while we value our Sangas, we do not think purity is as important as submission. I personally disagree. Submission is a trait easily taught in the inexperienced and young, such as yourself. I’ve sampled many others before you, and I’m excited to try a virginal prince—and I expect you to sing for me before the night is over. I _know_ you are able—for I also felt your song in the arena.”

I can’t help it—a painful shocked gasp is expelled from my damaged throat. He _knew_ I was going to sing and sabotaged my efforts? For what reason? To be able to "discipline" me? Couldn’t he do with me as he liked anyway? Perhaps not as roughly as he wanted, I suppose, unless he _wanted_ me drugged.

“Master, I will do my best to please you,” I say, lowering my gaze.

“So you say, while disobeying my command to maintain eye contact,” Shiki mutters, irritated. “You cannot even obey me in that! I’ll need again to show you who is your true master.” 

“Please—” I start to beg and plead—desperately casting my gaze back up to his—and too soon—before shutting my mouth abruptly, remembering my father’s words. And Shiki gives me a strange look. I sigh, lower my ears, and say, “I apologize, master. Of course, you are correct. I will submit to whatever punishment you deem sufficient.” 

He tilts his head, unable to believe what he has just heard from my mouth. I too am unable to believe the words that just came out of my mouth.

“Was is it an obedience potion he gave you? Does Sisa _have_ such magic? No—for if they did, you would not be the bratty little Sanga I have seen since I have been here. Hmm. Even _we_ do not have such magic. You will present yourself to me—assume the position—prepare yourself for your punishment.” 

A wave of fear rushes through my body but I struggle to obey at once—and struggle I do—but I can barely move my heavy body. Shiki is watching me with his hand on his chin. I can barely turn myself to my side, much less roll over.

“Please, master—I am trying to obey—I may require assistance after consuming my father’s potion,” I say quietly. 

“If I have to help you, additional punishment will be given,” Shiki warns—and I remember how he went from that painful hand spanking to the intolerable hairbrush. So I redouble my efforts, pushing my face into the mattress and swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

It’s truly the best I can do.

“Spread your arms to the side and open your legs.”

I spread out my arms on either side of my body, keeping my head turned to the right, and widen my stance. The only parts of my body that move freely are my ears and tail, which are twitching nervously.

I feel a soft touch on my bare bottom—and he is admiring the bruising he left earlier today with the hairbrush. 

“Your skin is so delicate, my spoiled little Sanga. I’m surprised my last lesson didn’t teach you better. I saw the rage in your eyes in the arena, and also when you saw me at the foot of the bed.”

At first, I feel like snapping back at him, but instead, I remember of Dad’s words—and try to discover exactly what Shiki wants from me.

“I was foolish, master. I am spoiled, and I am thankful you are spending your precious time teaching me this valuable lesson.” The words, spoken between an audible hitching sob, taste like poison coming from my mouth, and his response is a strange one—his hand slips in between my cheeks almost tenderly—like it did earlier when he realized Rai had left me untouched. The touch is revolting. I swallow the spit gathering in my mouth.

“ _That_ is what I want to hear, little one,” Shiki purrs. “If you take your punishment well, I will reward you afterward, and you can see the benefits of submitting to a powerful, magical Touga from Meigi, my lovely kitten.” His words make my skin shiver with fear, but it’s possible he interprets my response as desire.

He walks away from the bed for a moment and returns.

“I will first be punishing you for embarrassing me in front of the arena—by refusing to sing your song and submit yourself to my command.” 

“Yes, master,” I sob. “I’m deserving of your punishment.” I taste bile rising in my mouth. 

“Then, I will punish you for the rage and lack of subordination I saw in your eyes on the field and in front of your parents, right here in my own chamber.”

“Yes, sir.” I try to control my weeping. He hasn’t even started beating me yet, and tears are flowing. 

“You are also deserving of punishment because you spoke without being spoken to and you did not appear before me unadorned, as I requested. I appreciate your effort, but you must follow the letter of the law. To me, this direct disobedience of my command is the most severe, and I’ll save it for last.” 

My tail droops listlessly on the bed. “I’m sorry I failed you, master. I deserve no mercy.” 

“I will use three techniques on you, and I will offer you a small break in between. Have a glass of water. You are not to repress your cries. I enjoy the sound of your voice. You are a Sanga and were raised for your voice.”

“Yes, master. You are merciful, master.” My words are coming naturally, now—as though from someone else. The potion Papa gave me has really helped—but I even feel like I’m someone else. The bedspread suddenly looks awfully strange: I can see the individual silk threads close up, how they are woven together. I wonder for a moment what it is that is holding them together, what it would take to cause them to unravel, and if it’s the same thing it would take to unravel a person’s mind.

He helps me drink a glass of water, which I gratefully accept, then he presses my body back into the mattress. He strokes my shoulders almost kindly, spreading my hair over my back—I’m sure it looks pretty in the candlelight. I hate candlelight. I hate fire. I close my eyes against it.

“Keep your arms outstretched, legs slightly apart, unless I instruct you to move,” he reminds me, urging my arms to go where they are told. I shakily drag them heavily across the silk bedspread once more, planting my feet on the floor, curling my toes into the plush carpet. We are in _his_ guest room, I realize when I touch the carpet. He hasn’t prepared his room for me in any way I can see, unlike the lavish decorations Rai's room had—with guiding leaves and flowers—and it makes my heart ache. Another tear spills from my eye as I await my punishment, and my tail lashes nervously.

“If I have to restrain you, I will add to your punishment, like I did last time,” he whispers directly into my ear—almost a sexy promise—as if I should be looking forward to it—and oddly, my heart makes a little leap when he whispers so intimately in my ear, and something below my waist shifts. It leaves me feeling utterly disgusted and confused, however, because I’m frightened of both this cat _and_ his threat of punishment—so when my body responds it truly confounds me.

However, instead of my ears flattening in fear, they perk up slightly, and my tail lifts oddly at the base, showing slight sexual interest, to my utter shame and horror. Could it be the potion Papa gave me? I suppose it’s not working against me, in this case, because Shiki seems mightily pleased with my response.

As fast as I can, I muster the best words I can for the situation.

“I will do my best to please you, master,” I mumble, but it comes out in such a strange, sexy voice it shocks me. Shiki’s hands glide down my back, pressing against my lower back, skating out across my hips and ass. I notice he has a few items resting on the bed beside me—implements? For my torture? They are on my left, and I don’t turn my head. I’d rather not even know. Just let it be a surprise. Let this be over! _Please_.

He picks something up—it’s light, nearly weightless—and starts to talk to me in that soft voice of his again. I keep my eyes closed, wishing I could be somewhere else, trying to concentrate on the floaty feeling in my body and not the panic rising inside me. 

“I’ll start by giving you 10 strokes with this whip for your failure to please me in the arena. If you move to defend yourself or move from this position, I will add to your punishment. I know you are new to physical discipline, however, so I will not hold it against you once the final tally is complete. Are you sufficiently prepared?”

To my surprise, a loud sob escapes my throat before I can reply, and my body begins to shake—my knees tremble, and I try to lock them in place.

“Yes, master,” I whisper, and I’m surprised to find him hovering over my back again, his mouth at my ear.

“Just relax your body, darling. Don’t tense up. Simply relax for me.” As if we are making _love_?! 

Another fearful sob escapes and I say, “Yes, master,” just before I hear a light but dangerous swishing sound very unlike my father’s belt. 

A burst of pain hits right at my sit spot—bright, specifically aimed, and mean—lighting up the nerves in the back of my thighs and my ass. The noise it makes upon contact is quiet compared to the sound of a hairbrush or strap. And it belies the amount of pain it brings with it. Immediately, my legs snap together, trying to protect myself from the pain spreading further, and a cry falls from my lips. 

I hear Shiki murmuring softly as he pokes the tip of the whip directly between my legs, almost below the base of my tail, which I fluff up and lower defensively. I don’t like that whip touching me there! 

“Hmm—only the first blow, and you were unable to hold your position, spoiled little kitten! Didn’t you say you would do your best for me?”

“I’m sorry!” I cry, spreading my legs again.

“You’re sorry... _what_?” he asks menacingly.

At first, I don’t understand what he means—and then I remember. 

“Uh—I’m sorry, _master_!” Even more tears fall from my eyes. I wonder if he will add one or two strokes for my blunder. I press my claws into the mattress and dig my toes into the carpet, awaiting the next blow.

The swish comes again, and I manage to take it without closing my legs, but I cry out just as loud. This one hits slightly higher and is aimed at the center of my right cheek. It’s much less painful than the low blow on my sit spot.

The third blow is aimed low at my sit spot once again, and once more I’m unable to maintain my position. My legs snap closed and a cry leaks between my clenched teeth. A searing pain sneaks around to the front of my hips—dangerously—almost as though it’s intended to hurt me where I’m supposed to feel pleasure. I immediately resume my position, my ears and tail drooping defeatedly, knowing I’ve failed.

The fourth blow is centered more on my left cheek, which I manage with a loud gasping sob, maintaining my position.

My entire body shivers in agony, but I try my best to keep my legs relaxed for the next onslaught, which I guess will be another low blow to my sit spot. 

It isn’t. This one is aimed at my thighs—and while it hits both, is centered slightly on the _inside_ of my right thigh. Pain shoots up inside my leg, both up toward my groin and down toward my knee and into my ankle. The sound that comes out of my mouth is more like a grunt—like having the wind knocked out of me than a cry, but I keep my legs in place and relaxed. I dig my claws into the bedspread to keep my hands from covering myself.

I cannot move my legs for the next blow, either, from the shock of the last one. The sixth swish comes down on the inside of my left thigh, which has the same effect—also shooting pain toward my left ankle and up the inside of my leg, and now both my legs hang lifelessly off the bed. Perhaps this will make it easier to comply?

Yet when the seventh blow drops as another direct hit to my sit spot, I scream, my legs clamp themselves together, as though they need to protect themselves again. Yet another failure, I know. I hear my abuser clicking his tongue.

“Ah, please! Master!” I scream through my tears. “Ah! Thank you for your lesson?” I add, instead of begging for mercy, as I resume the position. I don’t even think about the extra blows I will be earning anymore.

The eighth and ninth blows are on my left and right cheeks, which I handle with cries while maintaining my position, and the tenth—another deliberate sit spot blow, which I still cannot handle with my legs apart. My legs snap together right after, and I scream loudly, tears flowing freely, and I sob hard and loudly.

I feel a hand resting on my bare bottom for a moment, and Shiki whispers, “Go ahead and keep your legs together now, little Sanga.”

When I do, and I realize that this position isn’t any better. In fact, with my legs together, this lifts my ass up off the bed, presenting myself even higher. It may protect that delicate skin in between my thighs, but my sit spot and butt are definitely protruding more now. I heave a great sob even _before_ whatever penalty he has in mind and dig my claws into the bedspread again. I try not to think about this only being the first of _three_ punishments he has for me. 

Then, the blows rain down, faster than I can count—but for sure, they are certainly more than four times the six I know I have earned. Alternating between my sit spot, my thighs, my sit spot, my cheeks, then starting anew—until I am wailing with tears and I feel like I may wet myself because I am in so much pain. My ass is searing with heat, my stomach cramping, my knees locked, but Shiki is holding the small of my back against the bed so I remain in that arched position and I cannot move even an inch.

As soon as the blows stop, my tears slow, and my breath starts to catch up—and as soon as I am able, I drop my body against the bed, and turn my head to the side. My legs quiver, my skin feels strange, almost like bugs are crawling across it, yet I speak in as firm of a voice as I can muster. 

“Thank you for your valuable lesson, master. Thank you for your teaching. I will learn from it. I am grateful, master.” 

And I burst into tears. I know it’s probably what he wants—and I can’t help it—it _hurts_! My ass and thighs feel like they are on fire—and I feel like I might have some embarrassing accident if he does something this extreme to me again. And gods—how he would punish me _then_? I have no idea! I am crying loudly—and that is easy to do. I’m sure my _entire_  castle can hear me. And this is my home. We are in my home. I am being punished like this—treated like this—in _my own home_. I feel like I might vomit.

Disgustingly, his hands tenderly stroke my ears and my hair—and I’m sweating and gross. He lifts up my head and gives me a drink of water—it feels so good in my throat and it’s tasty. Then I hear something strange.

“You did very well, little Sanga. You pleased me very much. That was much better than your last discipline session. Only two more to go.” 

My ears droop so sadly, but I submit to his touch as he presses me back to the bed. I can’t help noticing there is a significant amount of blood pooling in my waist and hips—and while most is localized in my burning ass and thighs, some of it, strangely, pools between my legs and in my groin. When I am pressed back into the bed, I try not to notice I am half-hard.

“Yes, master. I am nothing but a spoiled little Sanga, but I will do my best for you.” 

I rest my body for a moment, relaxing into the bedspread, examining the threads that hold the fabric together. They look slightly looser than they were several moments earlier—or is that my imagination? The golden threads seem spread slightly further apart from the ivory threads, separated even further from the white threads... Are they coming apart? My brain feels fuzzy. The cool water settles in my belly, having slightly soothed my throat. Intrusive cool hands smooth down my hot skin—the flesh of my lower back is very warm, and I flinch when I am touched on my bare bottom. Surely, slim raised lines have been left behind from that whip.

Tears squeeze hotly from between my eyelids. One breath at a time, I will get through this. I try to take a deep cleansing breath as another hand fingers the collar at my neck for a moment—the skin beneath bruised and swollen. My deep breath comes out not as clean and relaxed but as a shivering, shaking sound, and a fearful sigh right along with it.

“Hush now,” Shiki whispers into my ear. “You received my praise, didn’t you? Doesn’t that please you?”

“Yes, master,” I try to nod my head, but I can’t with his fingers beneath my collar. “Nothing pleases me more.” And that’s the honest truth, at this point. 

“Your tears are lovely, however—and your cries are delicious,” he hums softly. “Let’s continue, shall we?” 

“Whatever you wish, master.” I lower my gaze, closing my eyes again, trying to relax. “How do you want me, sir?”

“Now that, my dear, is the perfect question,” his voice lowers even more. “As long as you don’t resist or squirm away, I will be satisfied. This is for...” and he pauses a moment. Gods—has he _forgotten_ what he is punishing me for? I have, at this point. Rage burns inside me, which I quickly suppress. “Ah, yes. Your insubordination. The anger in your eyes.”

“Of course, master. I was very wrong.” I murmur softly into the bedspread, watching those threads come looser and looser. I keep my hands close to my face, and I dig my claws into the mattress, and then I close my eyes again, and I relax, my legs hanging off the side of the bed. Goosebumps shiver across my entire backside. 

I feel him pick something up next to me—and frighteningly, it has a _heavy_ weight to it—heavy enough so I notice when it’s missing. What the hell is _that_? A piece of wood? 

“Respect is important—not just to me, but to _any_ Touga, my spoiled little Sanga. So this lesson will be _unforgettable_ after you receive 10 strokes with this paddle. If I find you resisting this punishment in any way, I will add a penalty at the end—one that fits the crime. Do you understand?” I am caressed—the bare, newly welted, still burning skin of my bottom. “Also, let’s raise you up just a bit.”

He puts two pillows underneath my hips, which raises my ass up off the bed, arching my lower back almost painfully.

“You look gorgeous, little Sanga—those fine little red stripes do you great honor,” he murmurs. “But I’d like to see you a little pinker.” 

I try not to groan, and instead, I whisper, “Thank you, master.” Who have I become? In this room, who am I?

Again, I try to keep my body as relaxed as possible, my toes barely touching the floor—when a whooshing sound zips through the air. The wind from the paddle moves the fur on my tail and my ears, as well as the hair from my back and shoulders—sending a shiver across my body—I instinctively recognize this is a dangerous sound even before the wood makes contact with my skin.

Then a loud but dull popping noise nearly bursts my eardrums, making my already alert ears flick backward. It’s also an _embarrassing_ sound, making my ears fill with blood in an instant. But after the sound registers—the _pain_ registers in my body. And the pain from the paddle is much different than the pain from the whip.

This is a much bigger, more intense pain—covering a large area of my body—both my butt cheeks—nearly the entire area of my butt—has been hit in this single hard blow—and at first, it’s a dull and heavy pain. But when the intensity of it hits, its sting catches up shortly after, easily as much as the sting of the whip, only over a much wider area—burning with dull, not a bright pain—just like the popping sound it made.

At first, a small puff of air accompanied by a helpless grunting sigh is ejected from my mouth—at the same time the blow connects with my skin. But as the pain grows sharper, and my skin starts to burn, another cry bubbles up in my lungs and is squeezed out, once the burning takes its full effect, in spite of myself. As soon as I can get it out, I nearly scream out as loudly as I did during the last penalty phase of my punishment, pulling my thighs together desperately, trying to keep the pain localized to my ass.

But I manage not to resist, I think—at least, I _hope_ I am submitting. My claws in the bedsheet, my face in the mattress, I am sobbing desperately. How many blows did he say? 

“That was a good kitten. You took that so well that I want you to _count_ , little Sanga. I know you can do it.”

 _What_? I hiccup loudly. _Count_?

“Y-Yes, m-master. U-um—one?” I ask tentatively, once I can breathe.

Then the next whooshing sound is upon my ears and my tail fluffs up again in fear. I am trying not to clench up my ass, but I don’t manage. However, it makes no difference. This time, Shiki swings the paddle in an upward motion—wickedly catching the top of the backs of both thighs and my sit spot.

The bright clapping sound is very different than the muffled, dull sound on my ass, which naturally has more padding, and my ears twitch again. Another puff of air is expelled from my lungs, as the wind has been kicked out of me, and a terrified, pained scream is released at the same time. I don’t even recognize the sound of my own voice! The pain is much different, too—much brighter, much more intense—and it stings so much more! 

Tears stream down my face, and I struggle for a moment before I can catch my breath enough to say, “Two. Thank you, master.” 

He doesn’t even wait for me to finish my sentence before I hear the next rush of air. The embarrassing dull pop lets me know it was aimed for my ass before the pain registers, but my cry is much louder and is expelled with my breath this time. I don’t require a second for the pain to catch up anymore—the nerves are agitated and raw—and so is that skin. My ass feels large and swollen—and I feel it bouncing and jiggling after he pulls the paddle away.

“Three—master. Thank you.” More tears.

Another breeze and a rush of terror rushes through my body when he hits my thighs and sit spot again. I scream loudly—the pain zips around to the front of my body, making my groin feels like it was almost hit directly this time. I almost feel like I might wet myself as I felt during the whipping. I feel saliva running down the corners my mouth, along with my tears and snot, and I wonder if I should say something—warn him—beg him for mercy. Instead, I squeeze my legs together tightly.

“Uh... f-four... m-master... th-tha—”

But I’m not even permitted to get my thanks out before the next blow hits me—and I don’t even register the rush of wind in my fur this time. It’s another blow right to my sit spot and barely touching my thighs. I scream again—almost hoarse now. The pain that is pooling in my waist, the heaviness, the weight—and a tremendous fear of soiling myself and the bed—is growing ever stronger.

“Five,” I whisper.

“Five _what_?” Shiki asks, lowering the paddle once again—this time to my buttocks.

I scream out loud again—the dull pain is easier to bear—but I loosen my grip on the bedsheets. I am so afraid I will wet myself. I fear I may lose bladder control if he spanks my sit spot again. And I lower my hands quickly underneath my body to grab hold of myself in case I lose control. I figure this way I will release anything unpleasant in my own hands and not onto the bed. And strangely, that sensation feels oddly pleasurable! It's so _embarrassing_!

“Master—please—six—master—please—”

I squeeze my knees together tightly and lock my thighs together as well, preparing for the next blow, but it comes down as another hard blow directly to my ass, dull and aching. I scream again. The pain is still heavy, and I realize with my hands down around my groin that the risk of me wetting myself is slim. I am actually _completely_ hard. I’m filled with confusion. What is happening to me?!

“Ah—um, master? Um... seven? Master?”

“Sanga! Watch your hands! What are you _doing_? Are you...”

Shiki lands one more mean blow to my thighs and sit spot—the paddle sailing through the air, catching the tip of my tail in its wake—which in addition to the searing pain also sends an incredible electrical impulse jolting down my tail and up my spine. I scream in response to the spank and also in response to the blow to my tail—it hurts _so_ much—I had no idea my tail could be hurt this way. And it also, weirdly, feels slightly good!

“Ahh—eight, master, _please_!” I am wailing loudly in between blows, too.

“Are you _touching_ yourself, little Sanga? Where the _hell_ are your hands?”

“N-no, m-master—I’m j-just afraid I m-might w-” and I’m so ashamed I cannot speak.

“ _Move_ your hands!”

“B-b-but m-master...” I beg—I have an incredibly uncomfortable, full feeling I cannot describe, and I’m afraid to let go of my dick. I am currently clamping the base of it painfully. It _hurts_. 

He spanks me again—right at my sit spot, and I scream—my thighs were not prepared, and he got the soft parts of them on the insides.

“N-nine,” I whisper.

“Nine, what?! Move those damned hands!” 

Whoosh—the paddle flies through the air once more, striking my buttocks firmly—clapping them equally and hard—a dull slapping sound—and I cry out loud, tears are literally squirting out of my eyes. 

“Ten—Ah—master, Ah—Thank you— _Please_ —Thank you— _Please_ —have mercy! _Please_ , I can’t, there’s something wrong, _please_ —I think I might— _please_ —don’t make me— _please_!”

“You will be standing up for your penalty!” Shiki yells angrily. “You have _not_ pleased me! When I tell you to do something, you _do_ it! Now, take your penalty, or I will _make_ you comply!”

I am so frightened—but now that I’ve had just a moment to recover, I think I will be all right. I think I won’t pee on myself or him. He drags me up out of the bed by my leg, pulling me up over his knee. My heart starts to race in my ears—pounding loudly—and both my feet land solidly on the ground. Is this _really_ about me wetting myself? If it is, why am I feeling so damned good?

“Please, master—I’m sorry—there is something wrong with my body—I think I have to go to the bathroom! _Please_ —Please! Master!” I am begging, crying, pleading with everything I have, but he pulls me right up over his thigh. And he takes both of my arms and tightly pulls them behind my back. 

And he does several things in rapid succession. First, I hear a soft clicking sound—and I realize I cannot separate my wrists. I start to panic for real now—I cannot remove my hands from behind my back—my cuffs are connected in some way—and he pulls them up painfully to my lower back—and he pins them there. Now this means that I won't be able to stop myself from wetting him!

“Now, you will _have_ to comply. _No touching_. Weren’t you trained _not_ to touch yourself?”

“I’m s-so sorry, master—I-i j-just d-didn’t want to h-have an a-accident...” I blubber, tears, snot, spit flowing from every orifice. 

Then, as he bends me in half over his knee, which he props up on the bed, he brushes his hand boldly over my groin.

“Ah, I see. You are terribly naive about these things, aren’t you? There is no _chance_ you will wet yourself, little Sanga, when you are _this_ _hard_ ,” he murmurs the words in my ear while he strokes my dick—and it’s _painful_ —not pleasurable—and it sounds so dirty! I shiver in disgust. “However, there is a good chance you might accidentally _come_. And from a hard paddle spanking? I find that quite intriguing! But I gave you no such permission. If you do come...” he strokes my dick again, “You will be punished even more severely during your next round. I do _not_ give you permission. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, master,” I weep miserably. “I will do my best for you,” I sob, but I have no confidence.

I was right to have no confidence once this penalty round begins. I’m roughly bent over, my dick is stroked rather gently, and my ass is pushed up and out and my hands pinned behind my tail. He strokes the base of my tail as well, which I find wildly distracting, and strange lewd sighs start leaking from my mouth. I'm afraid I may come right now. 

“Uh—please—master—may I _please_...”

I have forgotten he has the paddle. But he has it, and by the goddess, he puts it to use in a way he hasn’t before. At a nearly sickening pace, loud clapping blows land alternating up and down my thighs, ass, and sit spot—and it’s only about four blows in until I am wailing as loud as my lungs will let me.

I’m begging—screaming—pleading—and the pain burns and spreads from legs and ass towards the front of my legs, and I try my best not to struggle, leaning forward into the pain rather than trying to straighten my back and struggle out away from it.

I go ahead and let my voice beg and plead as much as it will—I can’t control it. I also can’t control my tail—it’s waving around insanely—often narrowly avoiding blows or getting caught underneath the paddle and sending more electrical-type shocks into my spine and singing pain all the way into my shoulders.

Nothing is touching my dick now, however—well, it's sometimes pressed against his knee or thigh when I am spanked hard enough, but the blows are coming so fast it hardly counts. So why... _why_ am I so hard? Why do I still feel like this? Why...? Tears are dripping from my face when I compare this to last night and I push the memory away quickly—Rai's silver hair, his soft fur, his silky voice, his gentle touch... Why am I even thinking about it _now_? It's like my body is _craving_ it! Isn't this about pee? Don't I have to piss?

I think I can get through the last of this pain without messing up any more—making it worse for myself, even despite the fact that my body is shaking—and heavy—pain and blood pooling at my waist and in my hips. However, then Shiki cruelly gently strokes the base of my tail and pops the tip in his mouth.

That’s the tiniest bit of stimulation I need to remember that incredibly strange full feeling I am having—feeling full to bursting—and I am weak in the knees now—and I swear I feel like I am going to wet myself. The damp feeling on the tip of my tail—is it reminding me of sex or pee? I cannot tell at this point—but I am _not_ feeling good in any case. This is simply a case of too much blood gathered in one area of my body. I am covered with shame and absolutely humiliated. My ears and face are completely red and hot—the only way this could be worse is if I were in public.

My body starts to shiver, and from my core, I start to come loose. My shame is overcome by my basest instinct. My cries start to change, too—they start to take on a little bit of that shivering sound and a slight purr, to my horror. Then—it’s too late to walk it back—and I can’t stop, and my purrs overtake my screams.

“No— _please_ —no—don’t— _please_ —not like this—I beg you—please, don't do this... ah—master, _please_!”

The cries tear from my lips and Shiki keeps that paddle moving on my backside, lowering his strokes and aiming them ever more on my sit spot, and I cry louder and louder—and finally, I give it up—and I realize, indeed, I am coming, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

I spill my seed all over his thigh, squirting lewdly with every slap—and I finally relax into the punishment, realizing that despite his harsh words and threats, this is probably what he intended all along.

I am defeated, as he continues beating me until every last drop is drained from me, and I am still crying out—and I am now crying tears of shame, desperation, defeat, and forgiveness. 

He lets me drop to my knees, and I fall against his leg—right where I released—my face and hair falling right against my own come—it’s warm, sticky and salty—I’m shocked at the temperature and texture. I’ve never really felt the texture of my own come before—or Rai’s really, for any length of time—and certainly not in my face—it’s a bit of a surprise. It’s not quite as gross as I expected. I mean—I didn’t really think Rai’s was gross, but my own isn’t as bad as I thought it might be.

That’s not to say I really want it in my hair right now—I feel nasty, covered in my own fluids—semen, tears, snot, and spit—and my ass feels a little damp, and I’m sure hoping that’s sweat and not blood. I’m shivering, still weeping, and I’m on my knees in front of him, my hands still bound behind me.

Then I remember I’m supposed to be humble. I wasn’t _supposed_ to come, and I just did—because he stroked my tail. 

“You came—from me stroking your _tail_? You disobedient, spoiled little brat!” Shiki growls from above me.

I lower my face to stare at the floor, watching a mix of tears, come, and snot drip down into that lovely plush carpet I’ve never seen before today,and I start sobbing again.

“Master—I’m so sorry—I was _overcome_ by your touch—I just couldn’t help myself—I’ve no experience—and I simply thought I had to pee—master— _Please_ —forgive me—master, please!”

Fits with tears— _those_ I can do. And the drugs are still working. I can hardly stand—but _damn_ if my ass isn’t on fire! 

My body is now even more relaxed, but I do _not_ feel good. I did not get the same relaxation from that release or the nice pleasurable feeling I had with Rai yesterday. I am still afraid because he still has another punishment in store for me, and I did _not_ please him—again.

I bury my face in that black coat, tears falling.

“You are quite disgusting, covered in your own fluids,” he says as he grabs my hair. “Some prince you are. I’ve fucked cleaner _whores_ than you.” Thank the gods he releases my wrists.

“Yes, master. Forgive me, please.” I dare not raise my eyes, remaining on my knees. Plus I don’t have the power in my body to raise myself up on my legs.

“Get back on the bed.”

“Yes, master.” I’m scared, now—I’m not sure I can. But I do my best—pulling myself up by my claws—and I watch closely as my claws tear tiny holes in the threads of the bedspread—separating them, pulling apart the different colors, just like it feels like my mind is becoming—pleasure from pain, reality from dream, sanity from whatever this is—madness? One of the threads snaps underneath my sharp claw—just like that—it simply _snaps_ —it was _easy_. My heart skips a beat for a split second. Is this _all_ it takes to drive a person crazy? Is this all it takes to drive _me_ crazy?

I glance at Shiki for a second. Is that his goal? Does he want to drive me into utter madness?

“Are you considering disobedience? Haven’t you done _enough_ for today? I don’t think your body can take anymore. You’d best simply take what you have coming to you, spoiled little Sanga.”

He scares me—terrifies me. My heart beats in my throat. But I obey. I lie down on my stomach.

“No. This time, curl your legs up beneath your body.”

“Yes, master.” I can’t believe I still have tears to cry, but they continue to slip down my cheeks.

“This time, I will require more from you, little one, for this is the most heinous crime. Direct disobedience is the _worst_ offense. Would you like a glass of water? Or perhaps we should save it for afterward, so you don’t vomit?”

His words strike terror into my heart.

“Whatever you feel is best, master,” I whisper fearfully, hugging my legs in close in a small ball.

“Then let’s save it. You’re covered in plenty of fluids for now. Let’s not add vomit to that list. Now, you won’t like this punishment very much, I’m afraid, but it must be done.” 

“Master?” I ask, begging softly, my body shaking with fear.

“Now, now,” Shiki gently rubs my ass—and even the lightest touch stings and burns, and I clamp my legs together tightly, but I can do nothing. “You must raise up your behind, keep this fluffy tail out of the way, but keep your chest pressed down to the bed. I will give you ten strokes, plus an additional punishment for coming when you were not permitted, and for any unwillingness to maintain your position. Do you understand?”

I feel something very lightly touch the side of my leg. I’m afraid of what that thing might be—it feels like a twig or a branch, actually—and _that_ scares me.

“Master, please, I only desire to please you,” I plead.

“If that’s the case, then raise this beautifully pink ass of yours up off the bed for me, dirty little kitten, and accept the punishment you are long overdue.”

I feel like I might be sick. However, I comply, slowly.

I feel a slight tapping on my calves, however, when I do not obey quickly enough. Then suddenly, a sharp, stinging blow bursts across the unprotected soles of my feet, making my toes curl and my body flatten suddenly. I cry out—a single sharp cry. It hurts!

“That is exactly the wrong direction, spoiled little kitten, and counts as a strike against you.”

“I’m sorry, master,” I sob, desperately. The movement to flatten my body was a reflex—it really couldn’t be helped.

I try to raise my body to the position he requires, and as soon as I am there, the first two blows come down against my ass—sharp, stinging, blows that seem to tear open my skin. I don’t know exactly what he is using, but it feels like my skin is being flayed from my body, and I try to scream but my voice is now hoarse.

“Please! Master— _mercy_ —please!” I whisper. My body has once again immediately flattened itself. 

“Resume the position,” he says softly, urging me back up and swatting the soles of my feet cruelly. 

Keeping my eyes on the unraveling threads of the bedspread, I concentrate my energy on lifting my ass in the air as if it’s the last thing I will ever do, thinking, my gods, this is the _stupidest_ tradition of all time—what does this _really_ get us? I am going to _annihilate_ the Meigi as soon as I come to the throne—all because of this traumatic experience. I will ask for Shiki’s head on a platter or I will start a war that will end all wars! 

The birch flays my skin again—and I manage for four strokes this time—thank the gods I do not have to count—before my body is flat against the mattress again, and I am sobbing uncontrollably, begging for mercy.

“Please, master, please!”

“Your _position_ , you little brat! You can’t get everything you want in this life, and it’s my place to teach you this lesson!”

“Please, _please_ —isn’t it enough?”

“Isn’t it enough _what_?”

To my shock, the birch lands across the skin of my back—and it blazes like a fire, and so I instantly raise myself back up on my knees—it hurts so much more against my back, where there is _no_ padding, than where there _is_ padding, on my ass. So I obey in an instant. 

“Master, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _please_ , master,” I beg, crying, weeping.

I manage the remaining four strokes then—and I collapse to the bed. Now—the penalty.

“Thank you for teaching me this lesson, master,” I whisper, hoping it might be enough. 

“Nice try, filthy little Sanga.” Cool fingers dance across my skin. “Turn over.”

I obey—gingerly—weeping when the even silk of the bedspread touches my broken skin. 

“I don’t wish to damage you, so cover yourself, and don’t move your hands. I’ve got usually a pretty good aim, but just in case.” 

My eyes open wide when I realize what he’s about to do, but I have no time to consider before he begins raining blows on the front of my thighs. I scream loudly—with every blow—burning, searing pain blossoming in ways I didn’t think possible.

He works quite quickly, though—scattering a striped pattern on the front of my thighs, and then rolling me to my front. I am helpless to fight him, but I scream just the same, begging and pleading.

He turns me to my side, spreading those slim welts on the sides of my legs and the backs of my thighs in the same way, as though I were a piece of art. He spends a little extra time on my ass and then turns me back to my front—leaving me no time to breathe and barely time to scream.

I am absolutely terrified when I see his face. 

He’s actually _aroused_. When he stops, I cross my legs, shaking, trembling, weeping, and I stammer, “Th-thank you for the punishment, m-master. I h-have learned n-never to a-appear b-before you except when u-unadorned. N-never to d-disrespect you.” And I hiccup, sobbing, trying to remember the other reason I was punished. “A-and never to l-look at you w-with a-anger or c-cause you e-embarrassment. I a-apologize, m-master. I h-hope I w-was a-able t-to p-please y-you.”

I am still openly sobbing—and I am aching, my body burning. I am afraid to look at him.

“You took your punishment surprisingly well, little Sanga. But you have not pleased me yet. Now, you _shall_ please me. Take me in your mouth.” 

I look up at him, making a confused expression.

“Master?”

“I said, take me in your mouth.” 

“I’m sorry—I-I d-don’t understand... m-master...” I look at him shyly.

He motions to his dick.

“Oh,” I say, blushing furiously. “I-I didn’t know it could be d-done that w-way, master.” That is very much a lie—I even thought about what it would be like to take Rai’s giant member in my mouth just this morning during the argument with my parents, and _this_ is the last thing I want to do. 

I approach somewhat timidly.

“If I feel a tooth or a fang, you will be punished, and severely,” he warns, and that warning flattens my ears. I’ve never done this before, so naturally, I am afraid.

I unbutton his breeches, and to my surprise, he has pale _white_ fur below his belly, not black. It’s thin and silky, and I comb through it gently with my fingers, but he pushes against me with his dick.

I was trying to be romantic, but okay.

I take a small lick along the shaft and kiss the tip. He is much bigger than me, but thank the heavens he’s not as large as Rai. I breathe a secret sigh of relief. Also, he seems to want to keep his clothes on, even though my come is on his trousers.

“Would you like me to undress you?” I offer.

“That won’t be necessary. I won’t be long,” he says.

Perhaps this means he will leave me “untouched,” as he said. Or... I can  _make_ him leave me untouched, I think slyly.

“Open your mouth wide and cover your fangs, and relax your throat.”

I obey, but as soon as I do, he immediately shoves himself into my mouth, grabbing my hair and pulling me, craning my neck.

“Relax your throat, I said. You’re a singer, I know you can do it,” he says again.

I think about singing and open my throat, and it helps—but it hurts—and I gag, again and again. I keep my fangs covered, thankfully, however. He is standing beside the bed I am on, and he is basically just using me as a hole.

“Your lips are plush and soft, little Sanga, just as I’d hoped. Round them off a little more, but keep those fangs covered, and _purr_.”

Purr? How the hell can I purr when he is assaulting me like this? Then—Dad’s words about spending my first night with Rai come into my head. Having good fantasy material can help, he said, so I fill my brain with thoughts of the silver cat. I flood myself with him, his image, and not only do I purr, but I pull forth my _song_.

“Good kitty,” Shiki says, stroking my hair softly now, as my purr vibrates—and his eyes widen. I look up at him through lowered lashes as my song bursts forth with my power which he has not yet experienced. There is a viable bond between us now—all because of my song—and I can feel his emotions. 

He can probably feel my fear. And also—in a few moments—when he is finished being drunk off this power trip—he will notice the presence of the silver cat’s image in my head—but he hasn’t noticed yet.

I start moaning, sighing, moving my head on my own like I am enjoying myself and him. And he stares down at me, and is enjoying seeing me—subjugated, covered in my own fluids, bleeding, in pain, but dedicated to his pleasure and _only_ his pleasure—and singing and purring for him and filling him with power.

“Ah—Konoe— _this_ is your power?” 

He used my name! I’ve never heard him use my name! 

“Shit— _this_ is the power of your song—and used during bonding—My gods, what’s it like during _battle_? Did I make—ah—a mistake—when I cut off your—ah—breath? Ah—gods—you feel so good—you’re so hot—seeing your lithe little body under my complete control—and now _this_ —my gods—ah—Yes—do it—Ah, Ah, Ah!” 

And I suck him, lick him, bob my head, grab his tail, and massage the base till he comes. I allow him to pull out of my mouth just as he comes—I know what he wants from the temporary bond we have—so he can see his come spray all over my face and in my hair, and I know he wants me to lick it. I obey disgusting wish, licking my lips a little. It’s so gross. But I do it to save myself from far worse.

Why? Because his original plan to fuck me with no preparation was too cruel. I’ve never been taken there before, and my ass is so sore, my skin so tender—I couldn’t stand him hurting me anymore.

Then—he sees the emotions flow the other direction—my emotions, my fantasies about Rai—right when my song stops—and he slaps me right in the face—hard enough that I see a sky full of stars.

“You little manipulative _bitch_!” 

Although now, he’s got his own come on his hand from where he slapped me. I’m lying on the bed, dazed.

“Master—didn’t I please you?” I try softly.

“Damn it!” He yells again. “You manipulated me on _purpose_ with your song!”

“But master—didn’t you want me to sing?” I ask. “I only did as you wished.” 

He raises his hand to me again, but before he can hit me, or worse, take the switch to me again, someone is pounding at the door.

“Shiki—Konoe—please—it’s an emergency! A messenger from Meigi has arrived, and he needs to speak with you urgently!” 

That’s Papa at the door.

“Can’t it wait till morning?” Shiki groans. "We're in the middle of something here."

“If it could, we would not have disturbed you. Please. We are coming in.” 

Dad is on Papa’s arm. 

“Shiki, is there something you’d like to tell us?”

“No, nothing at all,” he says, straightening his back and his breeches. “What is this about?”

“The messenger claims he is the _real_ contender for the Meigi Touga Prince, and that you stole his spot using unconventional means. He has some proof with him that you should see.” 

Shiki pales, standing in front of me at the bed, but I don’t move. I am staring at the bedspread and several more of the threads snap beneath my claws—just like that! I keep my hand in front of my mouth to keep myself from screaming out loud. 

“Join us, please.”

He stalks from of the room.

And into the room, walks the large, silver presence I have been dreaming about. I know he isn’t my imagination—because of his wonderful scent—freshly fallen snow, sandalwood, cinnamon, maybe a bit of floral scent left in his hair from last night, too. 

“Rai?” I whisper.

“My precious little Sanga.” He drops to his knees beside my bed. “What has he _done_ to you? I’ve been _beside_ myself—listening to your cries. It reaches me _wherever_ I am in this castle, out on the grounds, in the forests. I couldn’t get away. They wouldn’t let me in, though I begged them. I found that traveler—he had been lost on his way to the castle—and I rushed him here to rid you of this imposter. But I couldn’t save you. May I treat your injuries? Please?”

When I look at his pale blue eyes—they are glazed—and his face is streaked with tears and dirt—his hair is tangled and a mess. His formerly perfect outfit is torn and dirty, covered in leaves like he’s rushed to return to the castle.

I reach both arms up to my silver cat, and he scoops me gently into his arms, careful not to hurt me. He feels so warm—so safe—so _right_.

“Konoe,” he whispers into my ear and gives it a little lick. I shiver slightly, and I settle into his arms. My body is sore, my jaw aches, my skin is torn up, my thighs and ass are burning—but I’m safe with Rai. When I realize that, I burst into fresh tears. 

“Let’s get you out of here,” Rai murmurs softly. He hugs me closely, nuzzles his face in my ears, and carries me from the room.


	28. The King's Favorite - Virus x Konoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setsura is a kingdom ruled by a powerful race of large, warlike cats. Their king, Rai, enslaves many of the nations royalty once they have been conquered. King Rai, however, suffers from boredom and loneliness, and a newly arrived slave catches his eye—Konoe from Karou.
> 
> Konoe was a prince in his country—a country with different traditions and rituals from Setsura, he has never lifted a finger for himself, nor slept on a straw mattress a day in his life. And he certainly does not know how to pick fruit, which is what he is currently being punished for when he catches the king’s eye.
> 
> Non-con.

“The little blond kitten with the caramel tipped ears and hooked tail,” the king asks. “I haven’t seen him before. Who is he?”

His Duke, Koujaku, a lean Setsuran cat with long ebony fur and deep maroon eyes, flicks his tail when he lays eyes on the kitten in question. He’s adorable—cute, young, full of energy, and right now, angry as hell, apparently.

“I’m not sure, Your Grace. He must be new here—one of our new arrivals. We did just conquer the kingdoms of Ransen and Karou. He carries himself nobly—perhaps he _is_ one of the royals we captured. It looks like he’s giving the overseer a hard time. Shall I intervene?”

The Duke and the king are watching the scene unfold from the veranda. The kitten has been put to work out in the gardens, and it’s not a good fit. It doesn’t look like he’s ever done a day’s work in his life, the king observes. And with his small stature, he can’t reach the fruit he’s supposed to be picking from the tree. His current overseer appears to be frustrated, but the kitten seems to be yelling right back. It’s almost an amusing sight.

This probably won’t turn out well for him, seeing as the overseer is Virus, the cat who is often assigned to new recruits and problem cases.

“Sire, do you want me to intervene?” Koujaku glances at the king, whose rounded white ears are pointed in the direction of the two cats facing off. He’s dressed for outdoor activities and sports today—his crown and cape are absent—but anyone could tell that he’s in charge just from his elegant posture.

“Not just yet. Let’s see where it goes first. If he is the Karou prince, I want him.”

Koujaku is disappointed that the kitten caught King Rai’s eye. He looks delectable—he’s petite, with mostly white fur, plush and full, the ends dipped in caramel. He’s slim but nicely built, like he has some experience sword training, except his waist is very slim and his hips wide—and he’s got the cutest, roundest little ass Koujaku has ever seen. But since the king has pointed him out, it makes him off limits. And so, Koujaku pushes the thoughts of the kitten’s cute little butt from his mind, trying to observe their interaction. About five minutes into it, looking at Rai’s expression, Koujaku is certain he will be collecting the kitten for the king’s harem. 

* * *

Gardening? Hardly—this is really more like farming! And I know nothing about either!

I’ve spent my life in a castle—I’m the prince of my kingdom of Karou—or I _was_ , until two days ago, when those Setsuran fighters overtook it. I’d never seen fighters so large and powerful. They took me hostage immediately because I was dumb enough to tell them who I was.

Now, the gods only know how I’ll be humiliated here. I had to sleep on a mattress made of straw last night— _straw_! Though I complained loudly, no one came to my aid. I slept less than an hour, leaving me exhausted and crabby.

This morning, they put a collar on me—a fucking _slave_ collar!—as well as leather cuffs in my wrists and ankles. The overseer says it makes discipline much easier. That frightens me, truth be told. Also, my fine clothes were taken from me, and I’m wearing loosely woven cotton that feels absolutely disgusting on my skin. It scratches and they are not tailored properly. It’s horrible.

“Don’t worry. We go easier on you when you first arrive. We know you’ve never had to work a day in your life.”

His words didn’t bring me much comfort, I have to confess.

The food is terrible, too—a stew of some sort for dinner and bland porridge for breakfast. Not the delectable fare I’m used to eating, and so I pushed it aside, refusing both last night’s dinner and this morning’s breakfast. I had just a little of the dry bread, but it wasn’t enough. Now, I can hardly stay upright at this point.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The overseer is growling at me. I think he said his name is Virus. He’s a medium-sized cat with short blond hair and fur. He’s wearing spectacles and a slim-fitting outfit in green and black.

“I’m picking fruit,” I say. I really feel like he’s been unfairly targeting me since I’ve arrived.

“You’re only to pick the _ripe_ fruit,” he growls.

I’m not used to be spoken to in this way. People at home treat me with respect and address me as “Your Grace.” I feel slightly offended.

“I am!” I retort.

“No, you stupid kitten. The ripe fruit should almost fall off when you twist it. You’re pulling off fruit with the entire branch!”

I look down at my basket, my fur bristled. He called me a stupid kitten. I _am_ young—but I’m of age, 16. And I'm very well educated—probably much more education than he has, in fact. No one would dare speak to me like this at home!

“It doesn’t really matter,” I say. “Won’t it ripen off the tree just the same?”

He approaches me quite suddenly—and I don’t know what to do. No one at home would dare touch me without permission! I’m _royal_ , for gods’ sake! My fur fluffs out defensively and I draw claws and bare fangs.

“Your job is to pick the _ripe_ fruit, kitten. Like this.”

Standing right behind me—touching my back—no, in fact, completely surrounding my body and making me shiver with revulsion—Virus grabs my arm and lifts it up toward the tree.

“Don’t you _dare_ touch me!” I yell, intimidated.

He drops my hand for a moment and grabs my chin instead, craning my neck backward to meet those crazy eyes of his.

“Oh? You have _another_ complaint?”

“I-i’m royal! I h-have n-noble blood! Y-you have n-no right t-to t-touch me!” I stammer, my voice obviously filled with fear.

“So you keep saying. You _were_ royal, when you lived in Karou, perhaps. But honey, you’re not in Karou anymore,” Virus whispers the words. He’s scaring me. “Now, you’re just another slave in Setsura, and a _disobedient_ one, at that.”

“N-no,” I whisper.

“And you are _still_ defying me? I’ve been dying to do this since I first laid eyes on you,” Virus says.

“Wanting to do wh-aaah!” My question is cut off by my frightened yell. Virus grabs my body—which is much smaller than his—and he bends me roughly over his knee, grabbing both my hands and pinning them at the base of my tail. I’m humiliated in this position, and he raises his leg up a little, so I’m on my tiptoes. I think I know what’s coming.

Is he going to beat me? I’ve never been whipped in my entire life—even as a child, my punishments were given to a whipping boy to save the precious body of the prince—and I learned very quickly to never disobey. I _hated_ seeing another boy punished for my mistakes.

“Now, the question is—do I strip you or not?” Virus whispers it in my ear.

 _Strip_ me? Oh, my gods—my ears fill with blood immediately with the very idea of exposing my body. My body is precious and off limits—it’s a tradition in Karou for the royalty of both sexes to remain chaste until marriage. Even exposing my body to the servants is unheard of. Being in this position is humiliating enough—my tail flicks around nervously.

“Please—I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’ll do anything—I just have never picked fruit before...”

I feel a hand moving from the tips of my ears—it feels cool since my ears are burning so hot—down my head and neck, along my spine, all the way to my buttocks. It makes me shiver.

“Probably too much for you to take for your first time,” Virus whispers, stroking my ass gently. It feels intrusive and unwelcome. I try to struggle to escape. “However, you’re not being very submissive. Even now, you’re trying to escape what you’ve got coming to you.”

He thinks I should just sit here and submit? That’s ridiculous! That will never happen! I’m staring at the grass on the ground in front of me, and I give my feet a good kick. Virus seems to expect this, and he says, “All right, then. You’ve made up my mind.”

A hard smack comes down on my ass—making my entire body jerk painfully against his leg, and a grunt comes out of my mouth. Before I can even catch my breath, he’s hit me again—switching between my left and right cheeks— _hard_. I notice when his blows are lower and aimed upward—right where my legs and ass meet—those hurt the worst, and a small cry escapes my mouth.

But there’s no way I’m just going to stand here and take it! I struggle as much as I can, kicking my legs, trying to pull my hands away from where he has them pinned, and I start yelling.

“Stop it! What the fuck do you think you’re doing to me? You can’t touch me! Get _off_ me!” My words are interrupted by my cries, however, so my authoritative tone sounds much less authoritative.

But my ass is really heating up, and I’m starting to tire. But not before Virus stops. And he lifts me up off the ground for a moment, so I can’t kick my legs as easily.

“I gave you a chance to do this the easy way, and you didn’t take it. So what’s coming next is all on you now.”

To my utter surprise and shame, as soon as my feet hit the ground, my pants and underwear are yanked down around my knees. This also prevents me from kicking—being trapped in my own clothing.

My face heats up and my ears are burning.

“Ah—please—no.”

Words I meant to yell simply fall from my mouth in a helpless, vulnerable whisper. I’ve _never_ felt so humiliated. Except, no—there is even _worse_ humiliation once the spanking resumes—plus it really  _hurts_.

Where before the blows took my breath away, now each one sears my skin—and each makes an embarrassing, loud slap. I feel my ass jiggling, too—and it’s mortifying! Tears are dripping from my eyes—and I know that some of my subjects are also in the garden picking fruit—they too are currently being treated to this show. I’m being spanked in front of my own subjects! I’m crying actual tears now—sobs are violently pulled from my chest.

Soon, my body isn’t fighting anymore—I actually am forced to submit. My tail is still waving around desperately—unsure and confused—but my ass is on fire, and it must be as red as my drooping ears when Virus finally stops.

“That’s what I require: your submission. How’s it feel?” He’s running his hand over my bare burning ass now, his fingers slipping along my sit spot and occasionally tickling the base of my tail.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper softly, repentant.

He smacks me again, and I cry out loud.

“You didn’t answer my question. I asked you how it felt.”

“It hurts,” I say quietly.

He smacks me again, right on my sore sit spot, and this time when I scream, fresh tears come out as well.

“I’m asking about your emotional state, you dimwit.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, my ears lowered. I’m still embarrassingly displayed across Virus’ knee, and I swallow my tears. I want my clothes! How can he speak to me so disrespectfully? “I feel mortified and embarrassed. No one has ever laid hands on me before, and now it’s clear my authority is gone.”

I stare at the grass. There is a patch of clovers right below me that I’ve been watering with my tears. I wonder if I could find a four-leaf clover in it—and if that would mean anything at this point. I could certainly use all the luck I can get.

“Your ass is made for spanking—that was just _gorgeous_ ,” Virus growls, finally pulling up my pants, taking his time.

In the corner of my eye—I see one, like magic, it almost has a silver halo around it, right there—in the middle of the patch of clovers—a stem with four leaves instead of three. The minute my hands are released, I reach down and snatch it from its home in the grass.

“Oy, what are you doing?”

“N-nothing,” I say. I sneak my prize into my pocket. Then Virus pulls me up against his chest like he was doing before.

“I’ll show you how to pick ripe kuim now. Pay attention and submit, or we will repeat our little discipline session.”

“I’m sorry,” I sniff, wiping my eyes.

He lifts up my right hand, and I allow it. I feel completely helpless and humiliated, like a puppet or a doll, and my tears continue falling. My vision is blurry.

“Check the fruit first, like this. Put your hand around it gently and give it a gentle pull. If it feels loose, it’s ripe. This one doesn’t, so let’s move to the next. Good boy. This one feels loose. So give it a twist.”

I twist it and the fruit falls into my hand.

“Perfect. That’s what I want to see. If you twist and it doesn’t come off, it’s not ripe. Move on to the next one. It looks like I should get you a ladder.”

I keep working, my ass and face and ears on fire, working around the tree. I try to ignore the other workers staring at me and their whispers.

“Konoe, meet your ladder. This is Asato. He’ll help you reach the fruit that is out of your reach.”

It's a cat? Not a ladder. Confused, I stare at him—it’s one I don’t know. He’s tall and lanky, with dark skin and black fur and hair, deep blue eyes that seem to stare right through me. He seems interested in my tail and even more interested in my ass.

“Um,” I start.

“If you give me or him any trouble, I will repeat that discipline session.”

My ears flatten instantly. But a ladder? How?

“I’ll help you reach, pretty little kitty,” Asato says.

I huff a little, but I’m taken completely off guard when Asato picks me up and puts me on his shoulders, draping my legs around his neck. I wince when my ass touches his shoulder, though. I'm still so sore! I’m very tall now, but it makes me nervous.

“You won’t drop me?” I ask uncertainly.

Instead of an answer, his hands rub my butt gently. It hurts!

“That looked very painful—but you are so very pretty,” Asato murmurs quietly. My ears light up in a fresh blush at his comment.

I ignore it and continue picking fruit, dropping them into the basket. Asato walks around the tree, carrying me on his shoulders. I occasionally feel his hands stroking my legs gently. Sometimes he grasps my tail and pets it, but I struggle to free it as soon as he captures it. I will _never_ get used to being touched so casually. It doesn’t feel right. I’m _royalty_ — _not_ to be touched till I’m wed!

When we return to the front of the tree, I drop the last few ripe kuims into the basket, and Virus starts yelling at me again, making me flatten my ears. He _really_ frightens me.

“What in the name of Ribika are you _doing_?!”

My claws draw reflexively and my fur fluffs out defensively.

“What—er, I’m sorry? Sir?” I must have fucked up again, but I don’t know what I did.

“Asato, put the kitten down now!”

He complies, and I’m shivering in fear. What did I do?

I drop down to my hands and knees, lowering my head to the ground, begging softly. Never in a million years did I think I would be begging some overseer in order to save my physical person last week! I could never have foreseen this! Is this really my life now?

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me, _please_ —”

“Kitten! Get up, drop your pants and underwear, and brace yourself against that tree!”

I’m truly afraid now, and I stay right where I am. I cannot do that again!

“Please! Virus—sir—I don’t even know what I did wrong! _Please_! Have mercy!”

“You’d better obey me now or your punishment will be five times worse!”

A pitiful whine leaks from my mouth, and I comply, albeit slowly. Miserably, I stand up, tail drooping, and I undo my pants and lower them to my knees, my hands shaking. I feel my ears burning when I press my palms against the tree. Gods—I _hate_ gardening! I had no idea it was so _brutal_! I wonder if this is how we garden and harvest in Karou. I sure hope not! I make a note to make sure we don't treat our servants like this as soon as I get home.

“Please, please, _please_ ,” I’m whispering—tears already falling. So much for that four-leaf clover—it did shit of a lot of good!

“You thought you’d just _drop_ the fruit into the basket from where you were!? Stupid cat! You’ve bruised _everything_ now! When you drop ripe fruit onto other ripe fruit, you're going to crush the fruit you've picked in that basket! Everything you picked is _ruined_! You’ll be paying for _all_ of these—with this whipping!”

I hear a snapping sound—I think Virus has broken off a branch from the tree, but I'm afraid to look behind me—and then I hear it swishing through the air. It makes the skin on the nape of my neck prickle before it makes contact with my body.

When it hits the unprotected bare skin of my ass—I scream in pain. It doesn’t make as loud of a noise as his hand on the back of my ass, but it feels like it’s actually breaking my skin. When he hits me again and I scream even louder, tears bursting from my eyes. I’m nearly on my knees from the pain by the third blow—and I hear a low voice interrupt.

“Virus. That’s enough. He’s been spoken for.”

“I’m in the middle of a discipline session!” Virus complains.

“He’s been spotted and _chosen_ ,” the low voice says, “for work as an indoor companion.”

“Well, _someone_ has a _lot_ of work ahead of them! I’ve never seen a more willful kitten!”

For good measure, Virus smacks me a final time with that birch. It’s unexpected, and I scream again, collapsing to my knees.

The owner of that deep voice comes toward me, gently running his hands over my ass. He makes a pitying clicking sound with his mouth before pulling up my pants. I feel his presence behind me—he’s also Setsuran—I can tell from his monstrous size—and I’m frightened.

“My gods, Virus, do you have to be so brutal? You’ve left welts and broken his skin! This king is not going to be pleased!”

“He should have obeyed, then,” Virus says simply. “I think this one is a poor choice for a companion, even if he has a nice ass. This one is willful and disobedient. He might be cute, but still!”

“Ah—this is the Karou prince?” the low voice asks, and he tilts my lowered chin up to his.

"So he claims," Virus says.

I meet the new cat's gaze—deep brown, almost red eyes meet my eyes—set with long, dark plush eyelashes. He has a scar across the bridge of his nose, but it only serves to make him more handsome. His hair is so dark it’s almost blue, and his fur is long-haired and matches his hair. His ears are strangely rounded and small—almost cute, I think.

I think I may have gasped when I take in his looks—for he is indeed a very handsome cat. The fur on his tail is long and bushy. And he smiles at me, making him even more beautiful. I blush deeply and look down. Plus, he saved me from that birching and from that horrible Virus!

“Oh my,” he murmurs, brushing my ears. “Pink ears. Look at that. Aren’t you an enchanting creature?”

I’m suddenly feeling very shy. Why is he being so kind to me?

“You will behave yourself for me, won’t you little one? You are indeed as lovely as the rumors make you out to be,” he says.

“Rumors?” I ask.

“Your name is Konoe, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You are rumored to be the most handsome eligible prince in all the land. And now—here you are—and you’ve caught our king’s eye. My job is to clean you up and prepare you for him.”

The king? What does he want me for, I wonder? A small shiver goes down my back, and I feel afraid.

“Prepare me... how?”

“You will serve him. Entertain him,” Koujaku explains. “It will be a much better situation for you than gardening, I think?”

“Serve and entertain?” I ask. I don’t have experience in the kitchens or dining room. I can dance well enough, but I don’t sing or perform—so how will I entertain him?

“Come,” Koujaku says, pulling me to my feet. I try to follow and I collapse in a few feet. My vision goes gray and everything sounds like it’s being piped through a metal tube. I can still hear, however—and I’m terribly afraid I will be beaten again.

“Please, please,” I whimper from the ground. “Please—have mercy on me. Please don't hurt me anymore!”

“Hush, now,” Koujaku whispers. Then he snaps at Virus, “Has the kitten eaten or slept? He looks exhausted!”

“He refused to eat, and he wouldn’t sleep on the mattress on the account that it was straw,” Virus explains.

I feel something gently rubbing my ears and my body feels like it is floating suddenly. I think Koujaku is carrying me.

“Please—don’t whip me again,” I start crying immediately. “I’m sorry I cannot obey—I just can’t get my legs to work!” My chest is hitching in great sobs.

“Hush now, little one,” Koujaku rubs my ears while he carries me. “You just rest for now. No one is going to whip you—especially not if you obey. We need to get you ready for tonight, and you need to rest while you can. Probably, you need some food, too. Just close your eyes for now, hmm?”

I obey, and my sobs calm down. This beautiful cat smells nice—like some sort of warm spice I can’t quite place—vanilla mixed with clove or cinnamon. I close my eyes and am asleep before he even carries me into the castle.


End file.
